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January, 1902, to June, 1902 

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Vol. XXIII. 


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GEORGE NEWNES, LTD., 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, & 12, SOUTHAMPTON STREET, 



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Vol. xxiii. 

The Strand Magazine. 

JANUARY, 1902. 

tfo. 133. 

The Hound of the Baskervilles. 





O far I have been able to quote 
from the reports which I have 
forwarded during these early 
days to Sherlock Holmes. 
Now, however, I have arrived 
at a point in my narrative 
where I am compelled to abandon this 
method and to trust once more to my 
recollections, aided by the diary which I kept 
at the time. A few extracts from the latter 
will carry me on to those scenes which are 
indelibly fixed in every detail upon my 
memory. I proceed, then, from the morning 
which followed our abortive* chase of the con- 
vict and our other strange experiences upon 
the moor. 

October 16th. — A dull and foggy day, with 
a drizzle of rain. The house is banked in 
with rolling clouds, which rise now and then 
to show the dreary curves of the moor, with 
thin, silver veins upon the sides of the hills, 
and the distant boulders gleaming where the 
light strikes upon their wet faces. It is 
melancholy outside and in. The baronet. is in 
a black reaction after the excitements of the 
night. I am conscious myself of a weight at 
my heart and a feeling of impending danger 
— ever-present danger, which is the more 
terrible because I am unable to define it. 

And have I not cause for such a feeling? 
Consider the long sequence of incidents 
which have all pointed to some sinister 
influence which is at work around us. There 
is the death of the last occupant of the Hall, 
fulfilling so exactly the conditions of the 
family legend, and there is the repeated 
reports from peasants of the appearance of a 
strange creature upon the moor. Twice I 
have with my own ears heard the sound 


which resembled the distant baying of a 
hound. It is incredible, impossible, that it 
should really be outside the ordinary laws of 
Nature. A spectral hound which leaves 
material footmarks and fills the air with its 
howling is surely not to be thought of. 
Stapleton may fall in with such a super- 
stition, and Mortimer also ; but if I have one 
quality upon earth it is common sense, and 
nothing will persuade me to believe in such 
a thing. To do so would be to descend to 
the level of these poor peasants who are not 
content with a mere fiend dog, but must 
needs describe him with hell-fire shooting 
from his mouth and eyes. Holmes would 
not listen to such fancies, and I am his 
agent. But facts are facts, and I have twice 
heard this crying upon the moor. Suppose 
that there were really some huge hound loose 
upon it; that would go far to explain every- 
thing. But where could such a hound lie 
concealed, where did it get its food, where 
did it come from, how was it that no one 
saw it by day ? It must be confessed that 
the natural explanation offers almost as many 
difficulties as the other. And always, apart 
from the hound, there was the fact of the 
human agency in London, the man in the 
cab, and the letter which warned Sir Henry 
against the moor. This at least was real, 
but it might have been the work of a pro- 
tecting friend as easily as an enemy. Where 
was that friend or enemy now ? Had he 
remained in London, or had he followed us 
down here ? Could he — could he be the 
stranger whom I had seen upon the Tor ? 

It is true that I have had only the one 
glance at him, and yet there are some things 
to which I am ready to swear. He is no 
one whom I have seen down here, and I 
have now met all the neighbours. The 

Vol xjdii— 1. 

Copyright, 1901, by George Newnei 



figure was tar taller than that of Stapleton, 
far thinner than that of lYankland. Barry- 
more it might possibly have been, but we 
had left him behind us, and I am certain 
that he could not have followed us* A 
stranger then is still dog- 
ging us, just as a stranger 
had dogged us in London, 
We have never shaken him 
off. If I could lay my 
hands upon that man, then 
at last we might find our- 
selves at the end of all our 
difficulties. To this one 
purpose I must now devote 
all my energies. 

My first impulse was to 
tell Sir Henry all my plans. 
My second and wisest one 
is to play my own game 
and speak as little as 
possible to anyone. He 
is silent and distrait His 
nerves have been strangely 
shaken by that sound upon 
the moor. I will say 
nothing to add to his 
anxieties, but I will take 
my own steps to attain my 
own end. 

We had a small scene 
this morning after break- 
fast, liarrymore asked 
leave to speak with Sir 
Henry, and they were 
closeted in his study some 
little time. Silting in the 
billiard- room I more than 
once heard the sound of voices raised, and 
I had a pretty good idea what the point 
was which was under discussion. After a 
time the baronet opened his door and called 
for me. 

" Barry more considers that he has a 
grievance," he said. " He thinks that it was 
unfair on our part to hunt his brother-in-law 
down when he, of his own free will, had told 
us the secret," 

The butler was standing, very pale but very 
collected, before us, 

U I may have spoken too warmly, sir," said 
he, "and if I have I am sure that I beg your 
pardon. At the same time, I was very much 
surprised when I heard you two gentlemen 
come back this morning and learned that 
you had been chasing Selden, The poor 
fellow has enough to fight against without my 
putting more upon his track." 

" If you had told us of your own free will 

it would have been a different thing," said the 
baronet, '* You only told us, or rather your 
wife only told us, when it was forced from you 
and you could not help yourself." 

i( I didn't think you would have taken 



indeed I 

advantage of it, Sir Henry 

" The man is a public danger. There are 
lonely houses scattered over the moor, and 
he is a fellow who would stick at nothing. 
You only want to get a glimpse of his face to 
see that. Look at Mr. Stapleton's house, for 
example, with no one but himself to defend 
it. There's no safety for anyone until he is 
under lock and key." 

" He'll break into no house, sir. I give 
you my solemn word upon that But he will 
never trouble anyone in this country- again, 
I assure you, Sir Henry, that in a very few 
days the necessary arrangements will have 
been made and her will be on his way to 


of you not to let the police know that he is 
still on the moor. They have given up the 
chase there, and he can lie quiet until the 
ship is ready for him. You can't tell on him 
without getting my wife and me into trouble. 
I beg you, sir, to say nothing to the police." 
" What do you say, Watson ? " 

I shrugged my shoulders. " If he were 
safely out of the country it would relieve the 
taxpayer of a burden." 

" But how about the chance of his holding 
someone up before he goes ? " 

" He would not do anything so mad, sir. 
We have provided him with all that he can 
want To commit a crime would be to show 
where he was hiding." 

" That is true," said Sir Henry. " Well, 
Barrymore " 

" God bless you, sir, and thank you from 
my heart ! It would have killed my poor 
wife had he been taken again." 

"I guess we are aiding and abetting a 
felony, Watson? But, after what we have 
heard, I don't feel as if I could give the 
man up, so there is an end of it All right, 
Barrymore, you can go." 

With a few broken words of gratitude the 
man turned, but he hesitated and then came 

44 You've been so kind to us, sir, that I 
should like to do the best I can for you in 
return. I know something, Sir Henry, and 
perhaps I should have said it before, but it 
was long after the inquest that I found it out 
I've never breathed a word about it yet to 
mortal man. It's about poor Sir Charles's 

The baronet and I were both upon our 
feet. " Do you know how he died?" 

" No, sir, I don't know that." 

"What, then?" 

" I know why he was at the gate at that 
hour. It was to meet a woman." 

" To meet a woman ! He ? " 

" Yes, sir." 

" And the woman's name ? " 

" I can't give you the name, sir, but I can 
give you the initials. Her initials were L. L." 

II How do you know this, Barrymore ? " 

" Well, Sir Henry, your uncle had a letter 
that morning. He had usually a great many 
letters, for he was a public man and well 
known for his kind heart, so that everyone 
who was in trouble was glad to turn to him. 
But that morning, as it chanced, there was 
only this one letter, so I took the more notice 
of it. It was from Coombe Tracey, and it 
was addressed in a woman's hand." 

"»••"'* Google 

"Well, sir, I thought no more of the 
matter, and never would have done had it 
not been for my wife. Only a few weeks ago 
she was cleaning out Sir Charles's study — it 
had never been touched since his death — 
and she found the ashes of a burned letter 
in the back of the grate. The greater part 
of it was charred to pieces, but one little slip, 
the end of a page, hung together, and the 
writing could still be read, though it was grey 
on a black ground. It seemed to us to be a 
postscript at the end of the letter, and it 
said : 4 Please, please, as you are a gentle- 
man, burn this letter, and be at the gate by 
ten o'clock.' Beneath it were signed the 
initials L. L." 

" Have you got that slip ? " 

44 No, sir, it crumbled all to bits after we 
moved it" 

41 Had Sir Charles received any other 
letters in the same writing?" 

44 Well, sir, I took no particular notice of 
his letters. I should not have noticed this 
one only it happened to come alone." 

44 And you have no idea who L. L. is ? " 

44 No, sir. No more than you have. But 
I expect if we could lay our hands upon 
that lady we should know more about Sir 
Charles's death." 

" I cannot understand, Barrymore, how 
you came to conceal this important infor- 

44 Well, sir, it was immediately after that 
our own trouble came to us. And then 
again, sir, we were both of us very fond of 
Sir Charles, as we well might be considering 
all that he has done for us. To rake this up 
couldn't help our poor master, and it's well 
to go carefully when there's a lady in the 
case. Even the best of us " 

44 You thought it might injure his repu- 
tation ? " 

44 Well, sir, I thought no good could come 
of it But now you have been kind to us, 
and I feel as if it would be treating you 
unfairly not to tell you all that 1 know about 
the matter." 

44 Very good, Barrymore ; you can go." 
When the butler had left us Sir Henry 
turned to me. 44 Well, Watson, what do 
you think of this new light ?" 

44 It seems to leave the darkness rather 
blacker than before." 

44 So I think. But if we can only trace 
L. L. it should clear up the whole business. 
We have gained that much. We know that 
there is someone who has the facts if we can 
only find her. What do you think we should 



I( I^et Holmes know all about it at once. 
It will give him the due for winch he has 
been seeking. I am much mistaken if it does 
not bring him down. 5 ' 

I went at once to my room and drew up 
my report of the mornings conversation for 
Holmes. It was evident to me that he had 
been very busy of late, for the notes which I 

ping from the eaves. I thought of the convict 
out upon the bleak, cold, shelterless moon 
Poor fellow ! Whatever his crimes, he has 
suffered something to atone for them. And 
then I thought of that other one— the face 
in the cab, the figure against the moon. 
Was he also out in that deluge— the unseen 
watcher, the man of darkness P In the 


had from Bakei Street were few and short, 
with no comments upon the information 
which I had supplied, and hardly any 
reference to my mission, No doubt his 
blackmailing case is absorbing all his facul- 
ties. And yet this new factor must surely 
arrest his attention and renew his interest. I 
wish that he were here, 

October 17th. — All day today the rain 
poured down, rustling on the ivy and drip 

evening I put on my waterproof and I 
walked far upon the sodden moor, full of 
dark imaginings, the rain beating upon my 
face and the wind whistling about my ears. 
God help those who wander into the Great 
Mire now, for even the firm uplands are 
becoming a morass. I found the black Tor 
upon which I had seen the solitary watcher, 
and from its craggy summit I looked out 
myself acxmt the melancholy downs. Rain 



squalls drifted across their russet face, and 
the heavy, slate-coloured clouds hung low 
over the landscape, trailing in grey wreaths 
down the sides of the fantastic hills. In the 
distant hollow on the left, half hidden by the 
mist, the two thin towers of Baskerville Hall 
rose above the trees. They were the only 
signs of human life which I could see, save 
only those prehistoric huts which lay thickly 
upon the slopes of the hills. Nowhere was 
there any trace of that lonely man whom I 
had seen on the same spot two nights before. 

As I walked back I was overtaken by Dr. 
Mortimer driving in his dog-cart over a rough 
moorland track, which led from the outlying 
farmhouse of Foulmire. He has been very 
attentive to us, and hardly a day has passed 
that he has not called at the Hall to see how 
we were getting on. He insisted upon my 
climbing into his dog-cart and he gave me a 
lift homewards. I found him much troubled 
over the disappearance of his little spaniel. 
It had wandered on to the moor and had 
never come back. I gave him such consola- 
tion as I might, but I thought of the pony on 
the Grimpen Mire, and I do not fancy that 
he will see his little dog again. 

" By the way, Mortimer," said I, as we 
jolted along the rough road, " I suppose 
there are few people living within driving 
distance of this whom you do not know ? " 

" Hardly any, I think." 

"Can you, then, tell me the name of any 
woman whose initials are L. L. ? " 

He thought for a few minutes. 

" No," said he. "There are a few gipsies 
and labouring folk for whom I can't answer, 
but among the farmers or gentry there is no 
one whose initials are those. Wait a bit, 
though," he added, after a pause. "There 
is Laura Lyons — her initials are L. L. — but 
she lives in Coombe Tracey." 

44 Who is she?" I asked. 

" She is Frankland's daughter." 

" What ? Old Frankland the crank ? " 

" Exactly. She married an artist named 
Lyons, who came sketching on the moor. 
He proved to be a blackguard and deserted 
her. The fault from what I hear may not 
have been entirely on one side. Her father 
refused to have anything to do with her, 
because she had married without his consent, 
and perhaps for one or two other reasons as 
well. So, between the old sinner and the 
young one the girl has had a pretty bad 

" How does she live?" 

" I fancy old Frankland allows her a 
pittance, but it cannot be more, for his own 

affairs are considerably involved. What- 
ever she may have deserved one could noj 
allow her to go hopelessly to the bad. Her 
story got about, and several of the people 
here did something to enable her to earn an 
honest living. Stapleton did for one, and 
Sir Charles for another. I gave a trifle 
myself. It was to set her up in a type- 
writing business." 

He wanted to know the object of my 
inquiries, but I managed to satisfy his 
curiosity without telling him too much, for 
there is no reason why we should take any- 
one into our confidence. To-morrow morn- 
ing I shall find my way to Coombe Tracey, 
and if I can see this Mrs. Laura Lyons, 
of equivocal reputation, a long step will have 
been made towards clearing one incident in 
this chain of mysteries. I am certainly 
developing the wisdom of the serpent, for 
when Mortimer pressed his questions to an 
inconvenient extent I asked him casually to 
what type Frahkland's skull belonged, and 
so heard nothing but craniology for the rest 
of our drive. I have not lived for years with 
Sherlock Holmes for nothing. 

I have only one other incident to record 
upon this tempestuous and melancholy day. 
This was my conversation with Barrymore 
just now, which gives me one more strong 
card which I can play in due time. 

Mortimer had stayed to dinner, and he 
and the baronet played £cart£ afterwards. 
The butler brought me my coffee into the 
library, and I took the chance to ask him a 
few questions. 

" Well," said I, " has this precious relation 
of yours departed, or is he still lurking out 
yonder ? " 

" I don't know, sir. I hope to Heaven 
that he has gone, for he has brought nothing 
but trouble here ! I've not heard of him 
since I left out food for him last, and that 
was three days ago." 

" Did you see him then ? " 

"No, sir, but the food was gone when 
next I went that way." 

" Then he was certainly there ? " 

" So you would think, sir, unless it was the 
other man who took it." 

I sat with my coffee-cup half-way to my 
lips and stared at Barrymore. 

"You know that there is another man, 
then ? " 

" Yes, sir ; there is another man upon the 

" Have you seen him ? " 

" No sir " 

"Howd^^^f him, then?" 



M Selden told me of him, sir, a week ago 
or more. He's in hiding, too, but he's not a 
convict so far as I can nuke out. I don't 
like it , Dr. Watson — I tell you straight, sir, 
that I don't like it." He spoke with a sudden 
passion of earnestness* 

" Now, listen to me, Barry more ! I have 
no interest in this matter but that of your 
master, I have come here with no object 
except to help him. Tell me, frankly, what 
it is that you don't like. 3 ' 

Barry more hesitated for a moment, as if 
he regretted his outburst, or found it difficult 
to express his own feelings in words. 

" It's all these goings-on, sir," he cried, at 
last, waving his hand towards the rain-lashed 
window which faced the moor, w There's 
foul play somewhere, and there's black 
villainy brewing, to that Fll swear ! Very 
glad I should be, sir, to see Sir Henry on his 
way back to London again ! " 

" But what is it that alarms you ? " 

" Look at Sir Charles's death ! That was 
bad enough, for all that the coroner said. 
Look at the noises on the moor at night 
There's not a man would cross it after sun- 
down if he was paid for it Look at this 
stranger hiding out yonder, and watching and 
waiting ! What's he waiting for? What does 
it mean ? It means no good to anyone of the 
name of Baskerville, and 
very glad I shall be to be 
quit of it all on the day 
that Sir Henry's new ser- 
vants are ready to take 
over the Hall," 

" But about this stran- 
ger/' said L "Can you tell 
me anything about him ? 
What didSelden say? Did 
he find out where he hid; 
or what he was doing ? " 

"He saw him once or 
twice, but he is a deep 
one, and gives nothing 
away. At first he thought 
that he was the police, but 
soon he found that he had 
some lay of his own. A 
kind of gentleman he was, 
as far os he could see, but 
what he was doing he 
could not make out," 
S* f " And where did he say 

* that he lived?" 

" Among the old houses 
on the hillside the stone 
huts where the old folk 
used to live," 
" But how about his food ? " 
"Selden found out that he has got a Jad 
who works for him and brings him all he 
needs. I daresay he goes to Coombe Tracey 
for what he wants." 

11 Very good, Barry more. We may talk 
further of this some other time." When the 
butler had gone I walked over to the black 
window, and I looked through a blurred pane 
at the driving clouds and at the tossing out- 
line of the wind-swept trees, It is a wild 
night indoors, and what must it be in a stone 
hut upon the moor? What passion of hatred 
can it be which leads a man to lurk in such a 
place at sudi a time ? And what deep and 
earnest purpose can he have which calls for 
such a trial? There, in that hut upon the 
moor, seems to lie the very centre of that 
problem which has vexed me so sorely. I 
swear that another day shall not have passed 
before I have done all that man can do tQ 
reach the heart of the mystery, 





The extract from my private diary which 
forms the last chapter has brought my 
narrative up to the 18th of October, a time 
when these strange events began to move 
swiftly towards their terrible conclusion. The 
incidents of the next few days are indelibly 
graven upon my recollection, and I can tell 
them without reference to the notes made at 
the time. I start, then, from the day which 
succeeded that upon which I had established 
two facts of great importance, the one that 
Mrs. Laura Lyons of Coombe Tracey had 
written to Sir Charles Baskerville and made 
an appointment with him at the very place 
and hour that he met his death, the other 
that the lurking man upon the moor was to 
be found among the stone huts upon the hill- 
side. With these two facts in my possession 
I felt that either my intelligence or my 
courage -must be deficient if I could not 
throw some further light upon these dark 

I had no opportunity to tell the baronet 
what I had learned about Mrs. Lyons upon 
the evening before, for Dr. Mortimer re- 
mained with him at cards until it was very 
late. At breakfast, however, I informed him 
about my discovery, and asked him whether 
he would care to accompany me to Coombe 
Tracey. At first he was very eager, to come, 
but on second thoughts it seemed to both of 
us that if I went alone the results might be 
better. The more formal we made the visit 
the less information we might obtain. I left 
Sir Henry behind, therefore, not without 
some prickings of conscience, and drove off 
upon my new quest 

When I reached Coombe Tracey I told 
Perkins to put up the horses, and I made 
inquiries for the lady whom I had come to 
interrogate. I had no difficulty in finding 
her rooms, which were central and well 
appointed. A maid showed me in without 
ceremony, and as I entered the sitting-room 
a lady, who was sitting before a Remington 
typewriter, sprang up with a pleasant smile of 
welcome. Her face fell, however, when she 
saw that I was a stranger, and she sat down 
again and asked me the object of my visit. 

The first impression left by Mrs. Lyons 
was one of extreme beauty. Her eyes and 
hair were of the same rich hazel colour, and 
her cheeks, though considerably freckled, 
were flushed with the exquisite bloom of the 
brunette, the dainty pink which lurks at the 
heart of the sulphur rose. Admiration was, I 
repeat, the first impression. But the second 

Vol. xxiii. — 2 

was criticism. There was something subtly 
wrong with the face, some coarseness of ex- 
pression, some hardness, perhaps, of eye, some 
looseness of lip which marred its perfect 
beauty. But these, of course, are after- 
thoughts. At the moment I was simply 
conscious that I was in the presence of a very 
handsome woman, and that she was asking 
me the reasons for my visit. I had not quite 
understood until that instant how delicater my 
mission was. 

41 1 have the pleasure," said I, u of knowing 
your father." 

It was a clumsy introduction, and the lady 
made me feel it. 

" There is nothing in common between my 
father and me," she said. "I owe him 
nothing, and his friends are not mine. If it 
were not for the late Sir Charles Baskefville 
and some other kind hearts 1 might have 
starved for all that my father cared." 

" It was about the late Sir Charles Basker- 
ville that I have come here to see you." 

The freckles started out on the lady's face. 

44 What can I tell you about him ? " she 
asked, and her fingers played nervously over 
the stops of her typewriter. 

" You knew him, did you not ?" 

14 1 have already said that I owe a great 
deal to his kindness. If I am able to 
support myself it is largely due to the interest 
which he took in my unhappy situation." 

44 Did you correspond with him ? " 

The lady looked quickly up, with an angry 
gleam in her hazel eyes. 

44 What is the object of these questions ? " 
she asked, sharply. 

44 The object is to avoid a public scandal. 
It is better that I should ask them here 
than that the matter should pass outside our 

She was silent and her face was very 
pale. At last she looked up with something 
reckless and defiant in her manner. 

" Well, I'll answer," she said. u What are 
your questions ? " 

44 Did you correspond with Sir Charles ? " 

44 1 certainly wrote to him once or twice to 
acknowledge his delicacy and his generosity." 

44 Have you the dates of those letters?" 

44 No." 

44 Have you ever met him ? " 

44 Yes, once or twice, when he came into 
Coombe Tracey. He was a very retiring 
man, and he preferred to do good by stealth." 

44 But if you saw him so seldom and wrote 
so seldom, how did he know enough about 
your affairs to be able to help you, as you 
say that he has done ? " 




She met my difficulty with the utmost 

** There were several gentlemen who knew 
my sad history and united to help me, One 
was Mr. Staple ton, a neighbour and intimate 
friend of Sir Charles. He was exceedingly 
kind, and it was through him that Sir Charles 
learned about my affairs/ 1 

I knew already that Sir Charles Basket 
vil!e had made Stapleton his almoner upon 
several occasions, so the lady's statement 
bore the impress of truth upoti it. 

" Dia you ever write to Sir Charles asking 
him to meet you ? " I continued. 

The flush had faded in an instant, and a 
deathly face was before me. Her dry lips 
could not speak the **No" which I saw 
rather than heard. 

" Surely your memory deceives you," said 
I. *' I could even quote a passage of your 
letter. It ran, * Please, please, as you are a 
gentleman, bum this letter, and be at the 
gate by ten o'clock. p " 

I thought that she had fainted, but she 
recovered herself by a supreme effort 

u Is there no such thing as a gentleman ? " 
shir gasped 

u You do Sir Charles an injustice, He 


Mrs. Lyons flushed with anger again. 

" Really, sir, this is a very extraordinary 

"I am sorry, madam, but I must repeat 

"Then I answer- certainly not." 

"Not on the very day of Sir Charles's 

by Google 

did burn the letter. But sometimes a letter 
may he legible even when burned. You 
acknowledge now that you wrote it?" 

lt Yes, I did write it," she cried, pouring 
out her soul in a torrent of words. W I did 
write it- Why should I deny it? I have 
no reason to be ashamed of it. I wished 
him to help me, I believed that if I had an 
Original from 




interview I could gain his help, so I asked 
him to meet me." 

" But why at such an hour ? " 

" Because I had only just learned that he 
was going to London next day and might be 
away for months. There were reasons why 
I could not get there earlier." 

" But why a rendezvous in the garden 
instead of a visit to the house ? " 

" Do you think a woman could go alone 
at that hour to a bachelor's house ? " 

" Well, what happened when you did get 
there ? " 

" I never went." 

" Mrs. Lyons ! " 

" No, I swear it to you on all I hold 
sacred. I never went. Something intervened 
to prevent my going." 

"What was that?" 

14 That is a private matter. I cannot tell 

" You acknowledge, then, that you made 
an appointment with Sir Charles at the very 
hour and place at which he met his death, 
but you deny that you kept the appoint- 

" That is the truth." 

Again and again I cross-questioned her, 
but I could never get past that point. 

" Mrs. Lyons," said I, as I rose from this 
long and inconclusive interview, " you are 
taking a very great responsibility and putting 
yourself in a very false position by not making 
an absolutely clean breast of all that you 
know. If I have to call in the aid of the 
police you will find how seriously you are 
compromised. If your position is innocent, 
why did you in the first instance deny having 
written to Sir Charles upon that date ? " 

" Because I feared that some false con- 
clusion might be drawn from it, and that I 
might find myself involved in a scandal." 

" And why were you so pressing that Sir 
Charles should destroy your letter ? " 

" If you have read the letter you will 

"I did not say that I had read all the 

" You quoted some of it." 

" I quoted the postscript. The letter had, 
as I said, been burned, and it was not all 
legible. I ask you once again why it was 
that you were so pressing that Sir Charles 
should destroy this letter which he received 
on the day of his death." 

" The matter is a very private one." 

" The more reason why you should avoid 
a public investigation." 

" I will tell you, then. If you have heard 

anything of my unhappy history you will 
know that I made a rash marriage and had 
reason to regret it." 

" I have heard so much." 

" My life has been one incessant perse- 
cution from a husband whom I abhor. The 
law is upon his side, and every day I am 
faced by the possibility that he may force me 
to live with him. At the time that I wrote 
this letter to Sir Charles I had learned that 
there was a prospect of my regaining my 
freedom if certain expenses could be met. 
It meant everything to me — peace of mind, 
happiness, self-respect — everything. I knew 
Sir Charles's generosity, and I thought that 
if he heard the story from my own lips he 
would help me." 

" Then how is it that you did not go ? " 

" Because I received help in the interval 
from another source." 

" Why, then, did you not write to Sir 
Charles and explain this ? " 

"So I should have done had I not seen 
his death in the paper next morning." 

The woman's story hung coherently to- 
gether, and all my questions were unable to 
shake it. I could only check it by finding 
if she had, indeed, instituted divorce pro- 
ceedings against her husband at or about the 
time of the tragedy. 

It was unlikely that she would dare to say 
that she had not been to Baskerville Hall if 
she really had been, for a trap would be 
necessary to take her there, and could not 
have returned to Coombe Tracey until the 
early hours of the morning. Such an 
excursion could not be kept secret. The 
probability was, therefore, that she was 
telling the truth, or, at least, a part of the 
truth. I came away baffled and disheartened. 
Once again I had reached that dead wall 
which seemed to be built across every path 
by which I tried to get at the object of my 
mission. And yet the more I thought of the 
lady's face and of her manner the more I felt 
that something was being held back from 
me. Why should she turn so pale? Why 
should she fight against every admission 
until it was forced from her? Why should 
she have been so reticent at the time of the 
tragedy? Surely the explanation of all this 
could not be as innocent as she would have 
me believe. For the moment I could 
proceed no farther in that direction, but 
must turn back to that other clue which was 
to be sought for among the stone huts upon 
the moor. 

And that was a most vague direction. I 
realised it as 1 drove back and noted how hill 




after hill showed traces of the ancient people, 
lhrrymun/s only indication had been that 
the stranger lived in one of these abandoned 
huts, and many hundreds of them are 
scattered throughout the length and- breadth 
of the moor. But I had my own experience 
for a guide, since it had shown me the man 
himself standing upon the summit of the 
Black Tor. That, then, should be the centre 
of my search. From there I should explore 
every hut upon the moor until I lighted upon 
the right one. If this man were inside it I 
should find out from his own lips, at the 
point of my revolver if necessary, who he was 
and why he had doj$ged us so long. He 
might slip away from us in the crowd of Regent 
Street, but it would puzzle him to do so upon 
the lonely moor. On the other hand, if I 
should find the hut and its tenant should not 
be within it I must remain there, however 
long the vigil, until he 
returned. Holmes had 
missed him in London. 
It would indeed be a 
triumph for me if I could 
run him to earth where 
my master had failed 

Luck had been against 
us again and again in this 
inquiry, but now at last it 
came to my aid* And 
the messenger of good 
fortune was none other 
than Mr. Frankland, who 
was standing, grey- whis- 
kered and red -faced, out- 
side the gate of his garden, 
which opened on to the 
high road along which I 

"Good -day, Dr. Wat- 
son," cried he, with un- 
wonted good humour, 
M you must really give 
your horses a rest, and 
come in to have a glass 
of wine and to congratu- 
late me." 

My feelings towards 
him were far from being 
friendly after what I had 
heard of his treatment of 
his daughter, but I was 
anxious to send Perkins 
and the wagonette home, 
and the opportunity was 
a good one. I alighted 
and sent a message to Sir 
Henry that I should walk 

over in time for dinner, Then I followed 
Frankland into his dining-room. 

" It is a great day for me, sir— one of the 
red-letter days of my life," he cried, with 
many chuckles. " I have brought off a 
double event. I mean to teach them in 
these parts that law is law, and that there is 
a man here who does not fear to invoke it. 
I have established a right of way through the 
centre of old Middleton's park, slap across it, 
sir, within a hundred yards of his own front 
door. What do you think of that? We'll 
teach these magnates that they cannot ride 
rough-shod over the rights of the commoners, 
confound them ! And I've closed the wood 
where the Fern worthy folk used to picnic. 
These infernal people seem to think that 
there are no rights of property, and that they 
can swarm where they like with their papers 
and their bottles* Uoth cases decided, lh. 

' ' GOOD 

Original from 



Watson, and both in my favour. I haven't 
had such a day since I had Sir John Morland 
for trespass, because he shot in his own 

" How on earth did you do that ? " 

'* Look it up in the books, sir. It will 
repay reading — Frankland v. Morland, Court 
of Queen's Bench. It cost me ^200, but I 
got my verdict." 

" Did it do you any good ? " 

'* None, sir, none. I am proud to say 
that I had no interest in the matter. I act 
entirely from a sense of public duty. I have 
no doubt, for example, that the Fernworthy 
people will burn me in effigy to-night. I told 
the police last time they did it that they 
should stop these disgraceful exhibitions. 
The county constabulary is in a scandalous 
state, sir, and it has not afforded me the 
protection to which I am entitled. The case 
of Frankland v. Regina will bring the matter 
before the attention of the public. I told 
them that they would have occasion to regret 
their treatment of me, and already my words 
have come true." 

" How so ? " I asked. 

The old man put on a very knowing 

" Because I could tell them what they are 
dying to know ; but nothing would induce 
me to help the rascals in any way." 

I had been casting round for some excuse 
by which I could get away from his gossip, 
but now I began to wish to hear more of it. 
I had seen enough of the contrary nature of 
the old sinner to understand that any strong 
sign of interest would be the surest way to 
stop his confidences. 

" Some poaching case, no doubt ? " said I, 
with an indifferent manner. 

" Ha, ha, my boy, a very much more 
important matter than that ! What about 
the convict on the moor?" 

I started. "You don't mean that you 
know where he is ? " said I. 

" I may not know exactly where he is, but 
I am quite sure that I could help the police 
to lay their hands on him. Has it never 
struck you that the way to catch that man 
was to find out where he got his food, and so 
trace it to him ? " 

He certainly seemed to be getting uncom- 
fortably near the truth. " No doubt," said 
I ; " but how do you know that he is any- 
where upon the moor?" 

" I know it because I have seen with my 
own eyes the messenger who takes him his 

My heart sank for Barrymore. It was a 

serious thing to be in the power of this 
spiteful old busybody. But his next remark 
took a weight from my mind. 

" You'll be surprised to hear that his food 
is taken .to him by a child. I see him every 
day through my telescope upon the roof. He 
passes along the same path at the same hour, 
and to whom should he be going except to 
the convict?" 

Here was luck indeed ! And yet I sup- 
pressed all appearance of interest. A child ! 
Barrymore had said that our unknown was 
supplied by a boy. It was on his track, and 
not upon the convict's, that Frankland had 
stumbled. If I could get his knowledge it 
might save me a long and weqry hunt. But 
incredulity and indifference were evidently 
my strongest cards. 

" I should say that it was much more 
likely that it was the son of one of the moor- 
land shepherds taking out his father's dinner." 

The least appearance of opposition struck 
fire out of the old autocrat His eyes looked 
malignantly at me, and his grey whiskers 
bristled like those of an angry cat. 

" Indeed, sir !" said he, pointing out over 
the wide-stretching moor. " Do you see that 
Black Tor over yonder? Well, do you see 
the low hill beyond with the thorn bush upon 
it ? It is the stoniest part of. the whole moor. 
Is that a place where a shepherd would be 
likely to take his station ? Your suggestion, 
sir, is a most absurd one." 

I meekly answered that I had spoken 
without knowing all the facts. My sub- 
mission pleased him and led him to further 

"You may be sure, sir, that I have very 
good grounds before I come to an opinion. 
I have seen the boy again and again with his 
bundle. Every day, and sometimes twice a 
day, I have been able — but wait a moment, 
Dr. Watson. Do my eyes deceive me, or is 
there at the present moment something 
moving upon that hillside ? " 

It was several miles off, but I could 
distinctly see a small dark dot against the 
dull green and grey. 

" Come, sir, come ! " cried Frankland, 
rushing upstairs. "You will see with your 
own eyes and judge for yourself." 

The telescope, a formidable instrument 
mounted upon a tripod, stood upon the flat 
leads of the house. Frankland clapped his 
eye to it and gave a cry of satisfaction. 

"Quick, Dr. Watson, quick, before he 
passes over the hill ! " 

There he was, sure enough, a small urchin 
with a little bundle upon his shoulder, toiling 





slowly up the hill. When he reached the 
crest I saw the ragged* uncouth figure out- 
lined for an instant against the cold blue 
sky* He looked round him, with a furtive 
and stealthy air. as one who dreads pursuit 
Then he vanished over the hill* 

"Well! Am 1 right ?" 

"Certainly, there is a boy who seems to 
have some secret errand." 

"And what the errand is even a county 
constable could guess. But not one word 
shall they have from me, and I hind you to 
secrecy also* L)r* Watson. Not a word ! 
You understand? " 

"Just as you wish." 

"They have treated me shamefully — 
shamefully. When the facts come out in 
Frankland v. Regina I venture to think that 
a thrill of indignation will run through the 
country. Nothing would induce me to help 
the police in any way. For all they cared it 
might have been me* instead of my effigy, 


which these rascals burned 
at the stake. Surely you 
are not going ! You will 
help me to empty the 
decanter in honour of this 
great occasion ! " 

But I resisted all his soli- 
citations and succeeded in 
dissuading him from his 
announced intention of 
walking home with me. 
I kept the road as long as 
his eye was on me, and 
then 1 struck off across 
the moor and made for the 
stony hill over which the 
boy had disappeared. 
Everything was working 
in my favour, and I swore 
that it should not be 
through lack of energy or 
perseverance that I should 
miss the chance which 
Fortune had thrown in my 

The sun was already 
sinking when I reached 
the summit of the hill, 
and the long slopes 
beneath me were all 
golden-green on one side 
and grey shadow on the 
other A haze lay low 
upon the farthest sky line, 
out of which jutted the 
fantastic shapes of Belliver 
and Vixen Tor, Over the 
wide expanse there was no sound and no move- 
ment* One great grey bird, a gull or curlew, 
soared aloft in the hlue heaven* He and I 
seemed to be the only living things between 
the huge arch of the sky and the desert 
be nen ill it. The barren scene* the sense of 
loneliness, and the mystery and urgency of 
my task all struck a chill into my heart The 
boy was nowhere to be seen* But down 
beneath me in a cleft of the hills there was 
a circle of the old stone huts* and in the 
middle of them there was one which retained 
sufficient roof to act as a screen against the 
weather. My heart leaped within me as I 
saw it* This must be the burrow where the 
stranger lurked. At last my foot was on the 
threshold of his hiding-place — his secret was 
within my grasp. 

As I approached the hut, walking as warily 
as Stapleton would do when with poised net 
he drew near the settled butterfly, I satisfied 
myself that the place had indeed been used 





as a habitation. A vague pathway among the 
boulders led to the dilapidated opening which 
served as a door. All was silent within. The 
unknown might be lurking there, or he might 
be prowling on the moor. My nerves tingled 
with the sense of adventure. Throwing aside 
my cigarette I closed my hand upon the 
butt of my revolver and, walking swiftly up 
to the door, I looked in. The place was 

But there were ample signs that I had not 
come upon a false scent. This was certainly 
where the man lived. Some blankets rolled 
in a waterproof lay upon that very stone 
slab upon which neolithic man had once 
slumbered. The ashes of a fire were heaped 
in a rude grate. Beside it lay some cooking 
utensils and a bucket half-full of water. A 
litter of empty tins showed that the place 
had been occupied for some time, and I saw, 
as my eyes became accustomed to the 
chequered light, a pannikin and a half-full 
bottle of spirits standing in the corner. In 
the middle of the hut a flat stone served the 
purpose of a table, and upon this stood a 
small cloth bundle — the same, no doubt, 
which I had seen through the telescope upon 
the shoulder of the boy. It contained a loaf 
of bread, a tinned tongue, and two tins of pre- 
served peaches. As I set it down again, after 
having examined it, my heart leaped to see 
that beneath it there lay a sheet of paper 
with writing upon it. I raised it, and this, 
was what I read, roughly scrawled in 
pencil : — 

" Dr. Watson has gone to Coombe 

For a minute *I stood there with the paper 
in my hands thinking out the meaning of 
this curt message. It was I, then, and not 
Sir Henry, who was being dogged by this 
secret man. He had not followed me him- 
self, but he had set an agent— the boy, 
perhaps— upon my track, and this was his 
report. Possibly I had taken no step since 
I had been upon the moor which had not 
been observed and repeated. Always there 
was this feeling of an unseen force, a fine net 
drawn round us with infinite skill and 
delicacy, holding us so lightly that it was 
only at some supreme moment that one 

realized that one was indeed entangled in 
its meshes. 

If there was one report there might be 
others, so I looked round the hut in search 
of them. There was no trace, however, of 
anything of the kind, nor could I discover 
any sign which might indicate the character 
or intentions of the man who lived in this 
singular place, save that he must be of 
Spartan habits, and cared little for the 
comforts of life. When I thought of the 
heavy rains and looked at the gaping roof I 
understood how strong and immutable must 
be the purpose which had kept him in that 
inhospitable abode. Was he our malignant 
enemy, or was he by chance our guardian 
angel ? I swore that I would not leave the 
hut until I knew. 

Outside the sun was sinking low and the 
west was blazing with scarlet and gold. Its 
reflection was shot back in ruddy patches by 
the distant pools which lay amid the Great 
Grim pen Mire. There were the two towers 
of Baskerville Hall, and there a distant 
blur of smoke which marked the village of 
Grimpen. Between the two, behind the hill, 
was the house of the Stapletons. All was 
sweet and mellow and peaceful in the golden 
evening light, and yet as I looked at them 
my soul shared none of the peace of Nature, 
but quivered at the vagueness and the terror 
of that interview which every instant was 
bringing nearer. With tingling nerves, but a 
fixed purpose, I sat in the dark recess of the 
hut and waited with sombre patience for 
the coming of its tenant. 

And then at last I heard him. Far away 
came the sharp clink of a boot striking upon 
a stone. Then another and yet another, 
coming nearer and nearer. I. shrank back 
into the darkest corner, and cocked the 
pistol in my pocket, determined not to 
discover myself until I had an opportunity of 
seeing something of the stranger. There 
was a long pause which showed that he had 
stopped. Then once more the footsteps 
approached and a shadow fell across the 
opening of the hut. 

"It is a lovely evening, my dear Watson," 
said a well-known voice. " I really think that 
you will be more comfortable outside than in." 

{To be continued!) 

by Google 

Original from 

A Kings Gallery of Beauty. 

By S- K. Ludovic 

BAVARIA, who died in 
1 868, and lo whom the re- 
nowned collection of the 
Gallery of Beauties at the 
Royal Castle at Munkh is 
due, was a man of exquisite gifts. Being a 
great connoisseur, his influence was of the 
utmost importance on the development of 
art in Germany, 
One of his first' 
acts when he 
came to the 
throne was to 
restore what was 
left, in the quaint 
old Bavarian 
towns, of moated 
walls, towers, 
and abbeys 
which French 
vandalism had 
so gravely in- 
jured in 1813, 
His greatest in- 
terest was 
centred in the 
study of history, 
and his love of 
art was the out- 
comeof his 
thorough know- 
ledge of the 
classics. By 
artists he was 
truly loved. 
They appreciated 
his fine under- 
standing and his 
critical opinion 
even more than 
his kindness. 
Ludwig Schwan- 

thaler, the celebrated pupil of Thor- 
waldsen, owes his whole career to King 
Lud wig's encouragement and help. It is 
said that Sch wan thaler's figures above 
the portal of the "Walhalla" at Ratisbon 
are the finest sculptures since the antique, 
When Ludwig was Crown Prince he was 
much in the society of artists, and was often 
seen at the Cafe Greco, the chief place of 
meeting among the Munich painters. He 

kinl; ludwig L gf liAVAktA. 

was one of the gayest among them. In the 
new Pinakothek is a picture in which the 
artist- Prince is depicted sitting with his 
friends at a Weinkneipe and partaking of a 
hearty breakfast 

The collection of portraits of beautiful 
women was not suggested with a view to pay 
compliments to the bearers of great names, 
though it is to a great extent a highly aristo- 
cratic bevy of 
beauties which 
has been im- 
mortalized by 
the subtle brush 
of Joseph von 
Stieler, the Court 
painter. The 
King desired to 
collect these por- 
traits indepen- 
dent of rank and 
position* During 
his lonely walks 
he succeeded in 
many a subject 
for his collection. 
Wherever he saw 
a lovely woman's 
face he sent his 
faithful Stieler 
with a request for 
the necessary 
sittings to secure 
a portrait No 
woman resisted 
such a compli- 
ment paid to her 
beauty, and thus 
it came about 
that in the same 
room with the 
portrait of Queen 
Marie of Bavaria we find one of a girl who 
served the foaming Bavarian beer to the guests 
at her father's inn. These two pictures are, 
perhaps, among the most beautiful of the 
collection ; but individual taste has always 
more to do with the decision of the question 
of beauty than all the rules of art 

We will now proceed to reproduce, we believe 
for the first time in this country, a selection 
from the portraits ; 1 Ut;s unique gallery. 




Queen Marie 
of Bavaria 

was a Prussian 
Princess and 
the wife of Kin^ 
Maximilian II., 
the son of Lud- 
wig L She was 
the mother of 
Lad wig IL and 
Otto L, the two 
young Bavarian 
Kings so sadly 
afflicted with in- 
sanity. Lud- 
wig IL was of 
chief interest 
to the world 
through his 
great influence 
on the life of 
Wagner. Dur- 
ing the sad years 
of 1S70-71 she 
occupied her- 
self most zeal- 
ously with the 
cum fort of the 
Every day 
during many weeks she went to the Odeon- 
a large budding where the famous Court con- 
certs take place — and helped the ladies of the 
town to sew garments and make bandages and 
lint for the wounded. From that time dates an 
amusing little anecdote, which goes to show 
that even Queens may sometimes say things 
which one \fould rather 
have left unsaid. One 
lady whose portrait was 
painted for the Gallery of 
Beauties about the same 
time as Queen Marie's 
also came to these charit- 
able meetings. On being 
presented to the Queen 
the latter loo Iced puzzled, 
as if trying to fix some 
recollection. Then she 
remembered and said, 
with one of her sweet 
smiles : " Are you not 
the beautiful Fraulein 
Vetterlein whose portrait 
is in the Gallery of Beau- 
ties?" The lady, much 
flattered, replied in the 
affirmative- The Queen, 

Vol xsjJj.— 9, 


looking at her 
with an absent 
air, pensively 
remarked : u It 
is astonishing J 
One would 
hardly have 
believed it." 
No one knew 
whether she 
was ever aware 
of having ex- 
pressed aloud 
her innermost 
thoughts about 
the elderly 
beauty. Possibly 
the little story 
was merely 
owing to the 
poor lady's 
former beauty 
having roused 
the jealousy of 

Anna Kaula, 

known in her 
family circle as 
Nannie or 
Nanette, was 
remarkable for her great beauty, She was 
a gentle, sweet woman, not very brilliant, 
and seemed hardly aware of her loveli- 
ness, Her father was a banker in 
Vienna, but it is believed that he left 
her no particular fortune. She and her 
sister were brought up in Munich by an 
aunt. She was seven- 
teen years old when the 
King desired her portrait, 
and on becoming more 
widely known, as was 
always the case when a girl 
was beautiful enough to 
be painted for the cele- 
brated collection, she had 
a great many suitors. She 
seemed not to care for 
marriage. At last, when 
her family believed that 
she had decided to re- 
main single, she chose a 
man, much her senior, 
who could not offer her 
any wor 1 d I y advantages 
and was in no way 
remarkable. " L'anwur^ 




Lola Montez* 
To those who still remember the freaks 
and escapades of this strangely-fascinating 
woman her presence among the noble 
dames of the Royal House may seem to 
be, to say the least, * little strange. The 
younger generation, who may have but a dim 
idea as to who Lola Montez really was, may 
be interested in the following sketch of the 
career of that remarkable adventuress, 1 ,ola 
was horn at Limerick, Ireland, in 1818, her 
mother being a Creole of notable beauty. 
After having passed the early years of her life 
in an English boarding-school at Bath, her 
beauty and viva- 
city of spirit at- 
tracted a young 
An glo -Indian 
officer, Captain 
James, who mar- 
ried her and took 
her with him to 
the Far East But 
Lola found East- 
ern life rather dull 
and, secretly leav- 
ing her husband, 
she embarked for 
Europe. Strug- 
gling poverty 
assailed the 
adventuress in 
London, and after 
a most chequered 
career as a street 
singer Lola 
went to Madrid 
Shu obtained an 
engagement in 
the ballet at the 
Porte St, Martin 
Theatre, in Paris, 
in 1839, hut the 
director found 
himself bound to 
dismiss the irre- 
pressible baller- 
ina* We hear of 

her again in Berlin, where, mounted on a 
spirited thoroughbred, she assisted at some 
grand military manoeuvres, at which the 
King of Prussia and the Emperor of Russia 
were present. The firing of the cannon 
frightened the animal, which bolted among the 
suite of the Emperor of Russia. A zealous 
policeman caught hold of the horse's head just 
in time to stop its mad flight, but, not content 
with having done his duty, he felt called upon 
to administer a rebuke to the fair rider. Imme- 

diately the hot-blooded Lola belaboured the 
astonished guardian of the law with such a 
shower of blows from her whip that he had to 
call for assistance. She escaped imprisonment 
on the plea of severe provocation, but had 
to leave Berlin. Paris, the scene of her 
former exploits, was of course her goal. 
Press and public received her with accla- 
mation, and Pillet engaged her as premier* 
danstust at the Opera, Soon, however, the 
old spirit of recklessness broke loose, and 
when hi a fit of daring she threw one of 
her satin slippers among the public she got 
hissed off the stage. She returned to 

Germany. Ludwig 
IL of Bavaria, 
meeting her appa- 
rently by chance 
at the house of 
a courtier, ex- 
pressed a wish to 
see her dance a 
fandango. Com- 
pletely fascinated 
by her feline grace 
and witty rej>ar- 
tees, the Royal 
enthusiast pre- 
sented her to his 
Court as "my 
best friend," She 
was made Baron- 
ess von Rosenthal 
and Countess 
Land sf eld. A 
pension of 20,000 
florins and a mag- 
nificent villa gave 
suitable atmo- 
sphere to the 
newly - created 
titles. But when 
he proposed that 
Queen Therese 
should invest her 
with the dignity 
of a Chanofaessc 
of the Theresian 
Order all the King's Ministers sent in their 
resignations and were replaced by new ones 
chosen by Lola herself. The student corps 
Allemania saw in Lola a sort of goddess of 
liberty and espoused her cause* This led to 
such riots thot al] lectures at the University 
had to be suspended. Lola, with her usual 
dare-devil temperament, ventured to walk 
right through the excited street mob. She 
was greeted l --wjth n his^es and groans, and 
only esraMdjji*^ to the 




King's protection. He had seen 
from one of the windows of the 
Royal castle what happened, and 
lea v i ng the assembled company 
came to Lola's rescue, leading her 
on his arm to a place of safety. 
Incensed by the violent manifesta- 
tions of his hitherto faithful 
burghers the King ordered the 
University of Munich to be closed 
for one year. But this was the last 
straw : at first a mere riot, matters 
now assumed the proportions of 
a revolution to demand the ex- 
pulsion of the foreign adven- 
turess. At last the King yielded 
and a decree of expulsion was 
signed. Returning to England, 
she married an officer in the 
Guards— a Mr. Head, a gentleman 
of large fortune* The charge of 
bigamy brought forward by his 
family she dodged by giving bail 
for ^r f ooo and going to S[>nm. 
There she separated from her hus- 
band, and two years afterwards he 
was found drowned near Lisbon. 
The artist Mauclerc was said to 


have* been her third husband, but 
hr ck-nuti [Ik: charge. In America 
she married finally the editor of a 
San Francisco journal, only to 
separate from him again. She died 
in 1861 in New York, where "she 
led an exemplary life and died as a 
good Christian." The portrait of 
Lola Montez is supposed to be the 
best of the collection. After King 
Lud wig's death it was expelled from 
the gallery and put into the lumber- 
room of the New Pinakothek, 
whence Herr Eugen von Stieler, 
after an assiduous search for it, 
restored it to the gallery once more. 


came to Germany through King 
Otto L of Greece, King Otto was 
King Ludwig I.'s second son, and 
during his lifetime a continual in- 
flux of Greeks took place into 
Munich, where they found sym- 
pathy and congenial surroundings, 

Amaue von Schinttjng 

belonged to an old aristocratic 

family, and was one of Queen 


UNIVERSlft'Pffer'"' 11 "" 8 ' 




Lady Jane Ekskink. 

In all probability the portrait 
bearing the name of l^ady Jane 
Erskine represents really I he wife of 
Lord Edward Morris Erskine, CB., 
who was Her Majesty's Envoy 
Extraordinary and Minister Pleni- 
potentiary to the King of the Hel- 
lenes from 1864 till 1H72, She was 
married in 1H17, and probably 
known to King Ludwig through 
the Grecian Court. 


was a young girl of good family, 
and well brought up. Her parents 
lived in a neighbouring town, and 
one day when she went to Munich 
with her elderly maiden aunt the 
King saw lier in the Ludwig 
Strasse, where he often took his 
walks alone. It was then customary 
for ladies to stand still, lift their 
veils, and when the King passed 
to make a deep curtsy, which he 
always most politely acknowledged. 
It often happened that he addressed 
the people in the street t and som 

Digitized by ^.1 

1 A 




W J 

very original conversations some- 
times took [>lace. When he saw the 
pretty Fraulein Vetterlein he ap- 
proached her: u A re y o u fro tn 
Munich, my pretty child ? You 
should not wear a veil It is a 
pity," Whilst he spoke the elderly 
aunt was struggling hard with the 
flimsy net which covered her faded 
visage. The King turned to her and 
said, with his politest buw : "Pray 
do not trouble; such a veil is a 
good thing." History is silent 
about the friendly relations between 
aunt and niece alter this little inci- 
dent. Hut when II err von Stieler 
appeared after a few days with the 
w p ell - known request from the 
King, Cornelia's parents were by 
no means surprised, Ludwig I. 
sometimes came in during these 
sittings to give his opinion and to 
have a friendly chat with the 
artist and his subject, but if 
the chosen chaperon was more 
than usually plain he could 
not always conceal his outraged 
sense of beauty. 





Lady Ellen- 


There is no- 
thing known 
aUout Ian the, 
Lad y Ell e n- 
borough, nee 
Lady Digby. 
The peerage 
gives no such 
name, but it is 
possible that, 
through the care- 
lessness of the 
officials, a wrong 
or misspelled 
name was put 
under the pic- 

Helen f, Sedl- 


It is interest- 
ing to observe 
the difference in 
the dress of 
Reyina Daxen- 
berger and 
Helene Sedl- 
mayer. Both 
wear the pretty 
and becoming 
14 Riegelhaube- 
hen," hut the 
dress of Regina 
is that of a 
fashionable lady 
of the time, 
whilst Helene 
wears the exact 
Bavarian na- 
tional costume, 
whirli is unfortu- 
nately no longer 
seen in Munich, 
A German beer- 
house is hardly 
the soil for a 
flower of beauty 
and purity to 
grow. Neverthe- 
less, Helene 
Sedlmayer, with 
her sweet, girlish 
face and the ex- 
pression of a 
saint, grew up 
in her father's 
inn. Near the 


l f ENE SHDL" 

Diversity of Michigan 

old Isaarthor in 
the "Thai,* 
where Munich 
still preserves its 
mediaeval aspect, 
in one of the 
small s id e- 
streets, was 
Hdene's humble 
home. She 
helped in the 
house, which 
means that she 
worked like a 
servant-girl, and 
served beer to her 
father's guests in 
the evening. 
Every three 
years a quaint 
old custom, "the 
takes place in 
this part of the 
town, The 
butchers and 
coopers dance in 
quaint medical 
costume round 
the fountain in 
the "Thai"; 
this festivity lasts 
three days and 
provides much 
amusement and 
gaiety for the 
working classes. 
King Ludwig, 
who was wont to 
mix among his 
subjects and 
whose k i n d- 
heartedness re- 
joiced in seeing 
their mirth, was 
there in the 
midst of the 
crowd and saw 
the beautiful 
Helene craning 
her pretty neck 
to see what was 
going on round 
the fountain. He 
sent his aide-de- 
camp to find the 
pretty maid a 
better place of 
vantage and %o 



help her out of the crowd, and the next day 
her father was asked to let her go in her best 
fi lery to Stielers ntuclio, where she would 
be painted for the King's collection. At 
one of the sittings the King, according to 
his wont, dropped in and chatted with the 
painter and Helene, He soon found out that 
the poor little girl had a sweetheart, who was 
now going to give her up because he thought 
she would be too great a lady for him, as 
he was so poor "Do you love him, little 
Helcne? Would you not rather become a 
lady? I think 1 could find you a husband 
among my Court officials who would make 
you a lady. I might give you a little dowry, 
because you are not only a pretty but also a 
good girl. JJ No consideration for her pose, 
no fear to incur the displeasure of the 
painter, could keep the girl back ; she 
knelt at the King's feet and kissed his 
hand, with tears 
in her gazelle^ 
like eyes : "Oh, 
would your 
Majesty let me 
marry Hans ? I 
don't want any- 
one else." King 
Ludwig kept his 
promise, and 
sent his private 
secretary to 
Hans with the 
command to 
marry Helene 
as soon as the 
picture was fin- 
ished. Hans did 
not want much 
persuasion, and 
on their wed- 
ding-day Lud- 
wig I. sent the 
bride a hand- 
some present 
and the deed 
which made 
Hans the pro- 
[> r iet or of a 
lucrative little 
hostelry, The 
little hostelry 

soon changed into a well - kept hotel, 
through the careful management of the 
young couple and the interest which the 
Royal family bore them. Helene's son, a 
godchild of the King, has not remained 
in the humble rank of life of his parents. 
A scholar and a good soldier, he is 


now in the front rank among Bavarian 


Regina Daxenhercer + 

This beauty was also discovered by the 
King during one of his walks. She was 
the daughter of a rich Munich burgher and 
master coppersmith, The lovely Regina was 
born in 1811. She must have been about 
nineteen when her portrait was painted for 
the King's collection. Through this event she 
made the acquaintance of her future husband, 
who was King Lud wig's confidential secretary. 
Heinrich Fahrenbacher was nearly seventeen 
years older than his beautiful fiancke x but his 
splendid career and "great intellectual gifts 
formed a fit equivalent to his wife's great 
beauty and fortune, The King loved children 
and young people, and would sometimes 
appear suddenly at some harmless little social 
gathering. Frau Regina Fahrenbacher often 

related to her 
how gaily he 
played " blind- 
man's buff ft with 
her and her 
friends. She was 
married in 1832, 
and became the 
mother of three 
sons and two 
daughters. Her 
children are all 
in good posi- 
tions, and one 
of her brothers 
is still the pro- 
prietor of the 
now famous old 
business in 
Munich. Frau 
died in her 
native town at 
the age of 

Julie Baron- 
ess von Kru- 


attracted much 
attention in her 
day, not only on account of her beauty and 
charm, but particularly through the great in- 
fluence she exercised for some time over the 
Czar Alexander II. Books have been written 
about her, and Governments have been in 
terror of her influence. Hers was a restless, 
ardent nature whose whoie life seemed to 






pass in a storm of excitement Sbe was born 

in Riga, 1764, and died also in Russia in 1824, 

She came of a rich and distinguished family, 

and married, in 1783, Baron von Kriidener, 

who took her to Venice, where he was Russian 

Am bassador. 

About 1777 

Julie's principal 

attraction lay in 

the fact that she 

was one of the 

richest heiresses 

of Livonia— for 

she was still an 

overgrown, un- 
developed, silent 

girl, with a rather 

long nose and 

uncertain com- 
plexion, but with 

ample promises 

of future beauty 

in her large blue 

eyes and chest- 

nut hair, and in 

her singularly 

well - sh aped 

hands and arms. 

When sixteen 

she had many 

suitors, and at 

eighteen she 

married Baron 

Kriidener, who 

was twenty years 

her senior. The 

Baron was a 

clever diplo- 
matist, a refined man of the world, but 

by no means a hero of romance. The 
brilliant young Ambassadress soon formed 
the centre of attraction, When Baron 
Kriidener became Russian Ambassador 
in I>ennnark she changed from a romantic 
girl into a brilliant society woman, Alex- 
ander de Stakieff, her husband's adjutant, 
killed himself for love of her. The remenv 
brance of this romance in her own life 
inspired her to write the romance " ValeYie." 
Under pretext of health considerations she 
went to France, and cultivated there the 
society of writers. In 1802 she became a 
widow ; then she published ** Valerie "—a 
book which is worth reading. She wrote 

JULIE BAkuNEss Von khUueneh 

several other novels with more or less 
success. Her veritable mission did not 
show itself until later. When her youth and 
beauty vanished her ardent heart turned to 
religion and to the good of her fellow- 
creatures. Her 
courage and her 
eloquence made 
her an apostle 
of her convic- 
tions. After 
some years of 
sojourn in 
Livonia, where 
she was noted 
for her benevo- 
lence, she 
thought herself 
called on to 
regenerate the 
world. She 
provoked per- 
secution by 
hu manitarian 
and socialistic 
doctrines, After 
1 8 14 her ten- 
prophecy. She 
foretold that 
Napoleon would 
return from 
Elba and take 
the throne 
again. The 
success of this 
prediction made 
the Czar Alexander IL, who was much 
addicted to religious exaltation, wish to 
see her. He received her in 1815, and 
was quite subjugated by her enthusiasm. 
He desired her to follow him to France* 
Installed at the Hotel Montchenu near the 
Palais d'Elysee, where he lived, she was for 
several months, so to speak, his prophetess. 
But the favour of the Czar began to decline. 
She went to Switzerland and there preached 
her socialistic doctrines. She had crowds of 
listeners, partly owing to her eloquence and 
partly to her liberality. She was expelled 
from Switzerland, and, being banished for 
three years from Russia, she died at Karasou 
Bazar, where she had gone for her health. 

by Google 

Original from 



Mjssmn ve«i> m^Y 

^Sss ■ 

By Winifrku (iraham. 


JORNA woke with a start and, 
springing out of bed, ran to 
her brothers room. She bent 
over the sleeping face, flushed 
and chubby on the pillow. 
11 Wake up ! " she whispered, 
and her small fingers pulled at his curls, 
" Wake op. Jack P 

He stirred, rubbing his eyes, 
Lorna skipped to the window and drew 
aside the blind ; the bright morning light 
streamed into the room. 
Jack collected his thoughts, 
" It's New Year's Eve/' he said. 
" Oh ! it's something better than that," 
cried Lorna, dancing about in her excite- 
ment. " It's Daddy's day ! You surely 
hadn't forgotten? 11 
" Rather not ! " 

He was fully awake now and his eyes 

* ( Can you believe it?" said Lorna, perch- 
ing herself cm the foot of the bed and 
looking straight at Jack ; w ean you believe 
Daddy is really coming home to-day?" 

"It seems as if we must be dreaming," 
Jack replied. 

Both were silent for a moment, and a 
thoughtful expression crept over their faces. 

The six months Captain Hamilton had been 
away at the war appeared like a six years' 
absence to the two waiting children, who wor- 
shipped the ground he trod on. The very 
name of South Africa filled them with vague, 
uncontrollable fears. Jack drew a very 
crumpled piece of paper from under his 
pillow and smoothed it out tenderly on his 
knee, the telegram his father sent him from 
Southampton — last thing before starting. 
During all those weary months of separation 
the treasured telegram had never left Jack 
for a single moment 

" I don't know how we shall get through 
the morning, r * he said. " Daddy won't come 
till this afternoon. But we had better dress 
quickly now, because I want to talk to 
Bowler. We must meet Daddy in the dog- 
cart ; he likes it so much better than the 

Jack scrambled into his clothes and ran 
to the stables 3 singing and shouting as he 
skipped along. He could hardly feel the 
ground under his feet, so buoyant were his 

" Bowler," he cried, seizing the fat, elderly 
coachman, ** look ! I've got a piece of 
ribbon to put on our whip to-day , red, white, 
and blue, for the Captain. And, oh ! please 
meet him with Benedict, because, you knowj 




he loves Benedict more than any of the 
other horses, and, coming from so far, he'll 
like to see an old friend." 

Bowler fell in with all the young master's 
wishes, for it was Bowler who had found six 
months ago a sobbing, tear-stained child 
huddled up at the back of the hay-loft, dazed 
with grief, and half dead from the violence 
of his emotions. 

"You will be round at the door for us 
very early, won't you ? " said Jack. " We 
should like to get to the station a long time 
before the train comes in. Lorna and I are 
both going — girls do look on things funnily, 
don't they, Bowler ? Lorna says she shall 
* insist ' — yes, that was the word she used — 
insist on being dressed in all her best 
clothes. As if clothes mattered ; but I ought 
to get my breakfast soon, the bell rang a 
long time ago. I suppose you know there is 
a mystery going on indoors?" 

Bowler shook his head ; his ignorance fairly 
staggered Jack. 

" I ain't heard of nothing of the kind, sir," 
answered the stolid voice. 

" Why, mother is preparing a New Year's 
surprise for Daddy and for us — we may not 
go into the West Wing. We can't think 
what it can be, because we have had our 
Christmas-tree, and we don't know of anything 
like that which might happen at New Year." 

Bowler could throw no light upon the 
subject, so Jack, his heart beating faster at 
the thought of the wonderful day before him, 
fled back to the house, the wind ruffling 
his hair. He and Lorna talked a great 
deal about the mystery as they breakfasted 
together in the nursery. 

" I hope it is something Daddy will like," 
Lorna said. " I don't mind for myself. 
Daddy alone will be quite New Year's treat 
enough for me." 

She heaved a pensive little sigh, adding, 
proudly : " He has not seen my winter coat— 
the blue velvet one — with the ermine collar. 
Both the coat and hat are new since he went 
away, and the hat matches ! I could not 
meet him in old clothes — on such a great 
day ! Nurse says the tenants are going to 
hang flags out of their windows, and the 
village will be decorated. We must take 
our presents to the station with us, to give 
him at once ; I expect he will like to get 
them directly." 

She slipped off her chair and ran to a 
drawer; Jack followed. Together they opened 
it and peered in. Two small parcels tied 
with red ribbons fully satisfied the children's 

eager gaze. 

VoL. xxiii.- 

by Google 

" I'll put our presents on my velvet hat, 
so we can't forget ! " said Lorna. " I expect 
mother's surprise for him will have cost a lot 
more money, but I daresay he'll like ours 
a little too." 

" He will like ours very, very much," Jack 
assured her, confident of having made a wise 

Bowler declared afterwards he should 
never forget that drive to the station ; it was 
all he could do to hold the children in the 
cart, and yet he enjoyed their hilarious excite- 
ment, listening amused to a torrent of 
innocent prattle. 

" This telegram," said Jack, feeling in his 
pocket, " has always stayed in every suit I 
happened to be wearing since the day Daddy 
went away. Now it won't be wanted any 
more (but I never mean to part with it). 
Have you ever had a telegram that seemed 
to comfort you to hear it scrunch when you 
put your hands in your pockets ? " 

" I don't know that I have," replied 
Bowler. " Now I come to think of it, 
telegrams generally bring me bad news." 

"Oh ! poor Bowler," sighed Lorna — "like 
the telegram that came from the War Office 
to say Daddy was wounded ! We didn't 
think then what good news it really was, 
because it is bringing him home, and he says 
he is not very ill — only a foot wound ; and 
Daddy doesn't mind pain, because he is a 
soldier and has learnt to bear it very bravely." 

Lorna peeped up so sweetly into Bowler's 
face that he was inclined to believe every 
word she said. She looked like a little 
princess with her hands in her big white 
muff and her dainty face and round blue 
eyes beaming at him. 

" You see what we are taking Daddy," she 
continued, displaying the beribboned parcels. 
"We have each got him a little packet of 
chocolates ; we think he must want that more 
than anything, because it has always been 
sent out to him. It was Jack's idea." 

Bowler smiled — a smile that came near to 
a chuckle. 

" Look, Lorna, look ! " cried Jack, as 
they approached the village. " The big 
( Welcome ' is hanging up over the road, 
which only comes out for weddings ; won't 
Daddy be pleased ? Oh, I can see lots of 
people on the station all waiting for his 
train." The nearness of this longed-for joy 
seemed to get into the children's blood and 
sent them crazy — decorum went to the winds. 
Jack, hanging half out of the cart, produced 
from under the seat a large patriotic handker- 

■-■ I I '_| 1 1 I u I II" 




chief, which he waved to everyone he knew 
as they passed, shouting, " The Captain's 
coming — the Captain's corning in the train." 

As the entire village appeared to be com- 
prised of Jack's acquaintances this kept him 
well occupied till Bowler drew up, and the 
irresponsible little couple tumbled out, 
making a dash for the platform. 

Bowler caught glimpses of them shaking 
hands with the station-master 
and porters, while joining in 
animated conversation with an 

feverish, despite the frosty bite in the clear 
winter air. Every nerve was strained to 
highest tension, as they stared down the 
blank line, hearts beating furiously under 
cosy garments. 

Suddenly the flood-gates of their eager 
expectations opened wide. In the dim dis- 
tance a thin curl of smoke heralded the 
coming train* Jack had his cap off and was 


interested crowd* Jack had his torn and 
faded telegram out, which he showed to a 
sympathetic circle, while Lorna explained 
about the chocolate* 

" Everyone seems to know it's Daddy's 
day ! M she whispered to her brother ; "isn't 
it nice of them not to have forgotten him, as 
he's been away such a very, very long time? 
Of course, we shouldn't forget, but that's 
different, because nobody could love him 
like we do!" 

They thought the train would never come, 
and at last a certain breathless silence fell 
upon them, in strange contrast to their 
previous mood. Instinctively they stood 
hand in hand — Jack's fingers felt hot and 

by L^OOgle 

waving at the engine long before he could 
see the familiar figure of the loved one 
leaning through the window*. 

As Captain Hamilton limped out he was 
greeted with the gifts simultaneously forced 
upon him. 

£i See, we've both got a present for you, 
Daddy 1 " they cried together, in breathless 

His merry laugh rang clear as of old, 
Then he caught the children in his arms. 
"How is mother?" he asked, kissing the 
upturned faces lovingly. 

" Mother is quite well," 

u but very busy to-day. I 

you will be .allowed .to go 
Original from 


replied Lorna, 
don't know if 
into the West 



Wing, but we mustn't yet— not till the sur- 
prise is ready. She is settling something for 
New Year." 

Jack eagerly untied the chocolate, as 
friends flocked round to shake Captain 
Hamilton's hand. 

There was nothing for it but he must eat 
a piece at once out of each packet. The 
proceeding apparently created much amuse- 
ment amongst the bystanders, who had 
already been favoured with a private view of 
the little packets, representing so much fore- 
thought on the part of the happy givers. 

To the sound of ringing cheers Captain 
Hamilton drove away^ Lorna nestling at his 
side and Jack standing up at the hack of the 
cart with both arms round his father's neck. 
Even Bowler, usually so stolid and immovable 
of feature, caught the infection — his red face 
resembled a beaming sun ! Benedict went 
like the wind; it was the merriest, maddest 
drive the countryside had ever witnessed. 

Lorna imparted news in her innocent, 
childish fashion ; she thought he must want 
to hear all they were going to do for the 
New Year. 

" We begged mother to let us sit up to 
see the Old Year out — we've never done it 
before, and she promised we 

**A splendid idea/ said Cap- 
tain Hamilton. Lorna fancied 
from his tone his thoughts had 
travelled elsewhere. So she 
kept quite still, but let her little 
velvet - clad shoulders lean 
heavily against his arm. He 
was not a bit changed, she told 
herself; just the same dear, 
sweet Daddy who had left them 
ages ago, the Daddy who always 
smiled, who appreciated their 
love. Jack's happiness kindled 
still in jubilant excitement, his 
blood coursed like quicksilver 
through his veins. Captain 
Hamilton fancied he could 
hear the beating of the boy's 
heart, as he retained his stand- 
ing attitude, unable to tear his 
arms from that fond embrace. 

As Benedict turned in at the 
drive, and the old house loomed 
before the traveller's eyes, a sigh 
of deep relief escaped him. He 
looked first at Lorna, then back 
at Jack, and though they could 
not tell what he was thinking, 
they guessed it must be some 

thing exquisitely tender Perhaps it was the 
cold, but the children fancied they detected 
a moisture under Daddy's eyelashes. Such a 
bronzed, manly face could not, of course, be 
guilty of a tear. 

The little people jumped down, bounding 
up the steps, Then they turned, and noticed, 
with a sense of shock, that Captain Hamilton 
alighted very slowly, the effort apparently 
causing him pain. He reached for his stick 
before entering the house. 

11 1 was so excited at the station I never 
saw his limp/ 7 whispered Lorna, 

" Nor 1" answered Jack, in an undertone, 
Lorna bent down to touch the foot. 

"Does it hurt, Daddy?" she asked, a 
little tremor in her voice. 

"No, pet," 

For the first time in her life Lorna did not 
quite believe him. 

They watched him mount the stairs and 
turn towards the West Wing. u May we 
come, too ? " they asked, hardly able to 
bear the thought of letting him out of their 

" No/' he replied, in a very decided voice, 
which chilled their spirits by its unexpected 
solemnity. " Run away and play, but let it 

by Google 

"<iT'.TtQrtgti )M irrtmi A - <> 



be quiet play. Mind, you are not to make 
any noise." 

Lorna and Jack exchanged glances, as 
they nodded their he^ds in assent. Not to 
make any noise — not to make any noise 
when Daddy had come home and all the 
world should be ringing with the news ! 
They walked away to a corner of the hall 
and sat down on an old oak seat. 

" It's very od$," said Lorna, the corners of 
her mouth drooping. " I never thought 
mother would let Daddy come back without 
being at the door to meet him." Jack sighed 
deeply, and ran his fingers through his thick, 
curly hair. 

"There is a funny hush about the house. 
Didn't you feel it, Lorna, directly you got 
inside ? I would much rather give up the 
surprise for New Year. I thought we should 
all have such good times together on Daddy's 
day ; it seems to have spoilt everything, 
mother stopping upstairs. I can't think how 
she could ! " Jack spoke vehemently, and 
his little face grew red. A sudden painful 
reaction crept over him. Lorna looked as 
if she were going to cry. 

Certainly Jack was right, the house felt 
strangely depressing. The absence of their 
pretty, bright -faced mother became more 
marked as time crept on ; everybody ap- 
peared influenced by it, for the servants were 
flurried and talked in whispers, while even 
nurse neglected her charges. Lorna had to 
take off her own coat and hat and ask Jack 
to brush her hair. When they went down 
to look for Daddy they could not find him. 

" It's a very disappointing evening," said 
Lorna, with a little sniffle. 

" Let us sit on the stairs and wait for 
Daddy," said Jack, trying to conceal his 
feelings. " We won't talk." 

They sat like two small images, staring 
through the big window, against which a 
hurrying snowstorm flung whirling atoms of 
feathery whiteness. 

When at last Captain Hamilton came by 
he only just waited to pat them on the head, 
and hurried past looking terribly grave and 

" You saw his face/' whispered Jack. 
" What did you think of it ? " 

" I don't know, but it seemed to me a sad 
face, as if he were unhappy about something. 
He has been to the West Wing, and the 
surprise has not pleased him. Oh ! Jack, 
what can we do for Daddy ? It's dread- 
ful he should come home and look like that ! 
He only ate a very little of our chocolate and 
left the rest on the hall-table. I expect the 

Digitiz UOOglC 

chocolate disappointed him. He may have 
thought there was something inside he would 
have liked much better." 

" Perhaps he wanted it to be tobacco," 
said Jack. " Mother sent out tobacco just as 
often as she sent chocolate, but we never 
thought of it, and I know there isn't any in 
the house. You may be sure that is making 
him unhappy ! He is looking for just enough 
to fill one pipe, and can't find a bit. It's 
New Year's Eve, and — and we've given him 
the wrong present ! " 

Jack's voice broke as he made the 
sorrowful statement ; he stood up as if 
bracing himself to a deed of heroism. 

" Lorna," he said, "this can't go on ! I 
must fetch him some tobacco from the 
village before the Old Year's out. Nurse 
knows we are sitting up ; she won't miss us 
— she, too, is busy about the surprise." 

Lorna glanced fearfully at the ever-thicken- 
ing snowstorm. It was quite dark outside : 
a wild, terrible night. In the house were 
great fires, hot-water pipes ran through the 
walls, all was snug ; King Frost and Queen 
Snow could find no entrance, but the world, 
the other side of the front door, was a place 
of chill desolation ! Lorna clutched Jack's 
arm. " People are sometimes lost in the 
snow," she told him. " I shouldn't like 
anything to happen to you, Jack, even for 
Daddy's sake ! " 

" I don't mind the snow," he said, though 
his heart sank a little at the sight. " I shall 
be sure to find my. way all right. Isn't it 
worth going out, to please Daddy ? Why, 
Lorna, you know it is." 

His eyes glowed with enthusiasm. Lorna 
caught the infection of his unselfish desire. 

" I shall come, too," she said. " It's awful 
lonesome for one person to be out of doors 
in the dark ; and if you got buried in the 
snow I should be there to scrape it away." 

" Perhaps I ought not to take you, Lorna," 
he murmured. 

" I'm coming," she replied, gathering her 
cournge together and forcing a faint smile. 
" You are not taking me. I've got twopence 
upstairs. Will that be enough to pay for the 
tobacco ? " 

" I expect so. I'll owe you a penny ; we 
must go shares. Isn't it wonderful I should 
just have thought what Daddy wanted ? We 
will get our things on at once." 

It was easy to talk of that long, lonely walk 

in the snow, with the hearth fire crackling 

within earshot and the warm light filling the 

house. The children had yet to realize the 

difference of bei^s; actually exposed to the 
j i r^Pd r II*' * 




biting storm, with darkness all round them 
and wind-driven flakes blinding their eyes, 

Unseen they opened the big front door 
and staggered out, fighting the elements 

" I didn't think it would be so cold," Lorna 
confessed, clutching Jack's arm. If I can feel 
the snow tumbling into my boots ; I seem to 
slip such a long way down at every step." 

11 That is only because you are so short, 1 ' 
said Jack, cheerily. "It isn't so very deep, 

He knew in his heart the night was 
dangerous, for the wind blew the snow into 
great drifts, and darkness hung over the earth 
like a pall. Lorna leaned so heavily upon 
him that he stumbled a good deal and had 
some difficulty in keeping to the path* 

"It doesn't matter," he kept saying, half to 
himself. "It's for Daddy we are going. 1 ' 

it's fob daddy we ave gqinu." 

The words had a marvellous effect upon 
Loma'a chilled spirits. No sacrifice for 
Daddy could be too great I So they battled 
on manfully, their faces cut by the wind and 
their little figures covered from head to foot 
b a thick coating of heavy whiteness. 

On the verge of exhaustion they reached 
the village, and a gasp of horror escaped the 

41 Lorna, the shop is shut ! " 

She leant against the wet door, thrusting 
both knuckles in her eyes* 

Jack pulled them sharply down. " Don't 
cry, 13 he said ; "there must be some way of 

by LiOOgle 

getting it Look/' pointing across the road, 
"at those lights in the Bull and Horn ! A 
man is singing a song; lots of people are 
laughing. Come, Lorna, they are sure to sell 
tobacco there ! M 

" Oh ! but I mustn't go into a public-house ; 
mother wouldn't like it," said L-orna, draw- 
ing back. 

"You can stay in the porch; I'll go and 
asL Give me the twopence." A queer 
little figure came suddenly into the light of 
the Bull and Horn. At first the proprietor 
failed to recognise the youthful pilgrim under 
his weight of snow. 

Jack put down the money on the counter, 
and looked up hopefully. 

" Please," he said, "can you give me some 
tobacco for that ? My Daddy has come 
home from South Africa, and we forgot 
about his perhaps wanting to smoke. We 

never thought of 
it till we saw him 
looking very sad, 
My sister is wait- 
ing on the door- 
step, and she's 
rather damp* so 
perhaps you 
could oblige me 
with the tobacco 

"Lor J !" mur- 
mured the pro- 
prietor, " it's the 
little master from 
the Manor, and 
the young lady 
outside such a 
night as this] Did 
anyone ever hear 
the like?" 

A silence fell 
on the assembly. 
All eyes were 
turned to the 
small, weather-beaten wanderer. 

"I should just Lhink I could let you have 
some tobacco for the Captain ! " continued 
the kindly voice ; " the best my house 
affords, and long may he live to enjoy a pipe 
of peace ! " 

The landlord went to his own private 
drawer, and presented Jack with a goodly 
sized bundle, which set the boy's heart beat- 
ing quickly with delight AH the terrors of 
the storm faded under the soothing influence 
of success. 

Stoutly declining the offer of an escort 
home 3 jack rejoined Ix>rna, finding her 





seated on the doorstep, half asleep, in the 
snow. It took so much shaking to wake her, 
and she kerned so tired and numbed, that the 
long road ahead filled Jack with fresh pangs. 
The path home led up-hill — a weary while 
journey, under starless skies. What matter 
the cold 


creeping into their systems \ 
matter the weariness and the pain, since 
between them they carried that precious 
parcel containing the whole love of two fond 
h<;irt^ ? 

The snow blew up from the ground into 
their faces. Jack found I^orna very heavy to 
pull along ; it seemed an unending walk ! 
Jack thought surely the morning would come 
before they reached the familiar old garden. 

At last they saw the bright lights of home 
twinkling in the windows- A carriage stood 
in the drive ; the front door was set open. 

"Let us slip in and hide behind the big 
curtains/ 1 whispered Jack. "We don't want 
anyone to see us like this. I wonder who 
the visitor can be?" peering curiously into 
the hall " Richard is helping him on with 
his coat— now's our chance ! " 

Well-skilled in the game of hide-and-seek, 
the truants reached the shelter of the window- 
curtains unobserved, A white-haired gentle- 
man in a fur-coat passed out, and Richard 
fastened the door again 

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" Ark you ready, Lorna?" said a voice from 
the passage, 

II Yes— come in, Jack." 

The boy entered the nursery on tiptoe. 
Lorn a in dry clothing stood before him, 
warm, smiling, contented in the firelight 
" Got over the hot-ache ? n he asked, touch- 
ing her hands. 

She nodded reassuringly. '* See, I can 
move my finders quite well now. What have 
you done, Jack ? " 

II I persuaded Richard to take our parcel 
to Daddy, Richard said he wouldn't at first, 
the Captain was in the West Wing, and must 
not be disturbed, but I got round him. The 
New Year will be here very soon, and we 
are to listen for the bells. Come downstairs 
and let us see if we can find Daddy." 

Jack had changed into a white sailor suit 
he wore for parties. He felt sure the sur- 
prise would be ready with the New Year. 

On their way to the hall they suddenly 
paused and peeped through the banisters, 
A thrill of excitement shook Lorna* She 
pinched Jack's arm violently. 

There below stood the Captain, his whole 
manner changed, his face radiant, his eyes 
alight with a new jay, and in his hand the packet 
of tobacco they had risked so much to gain ! 




u We were right I we were right ! n gasped 
Jack, and started running down the stairs. 

u Oh! Daddy,' 1 he cried, " we guessed 
what you wanted, and we're so glad you are 
happy again I " 

The Captain looked at their present, know- 
ing nothing of the journey to the village, 
and, laughing light-heartedly, thanked them 
with much warmth and fervour for thefr 
kindly thought. 

" It was the very thing I needed to cheer 
me up," he said, with a little twinkle, and, 

Cap^in Hamilton led the way to one of 
the many spare rooms in the West Wing. 

" Look ! he said. "This is a New Year's 
gift to me," 

His voice had a strange, sweet note in it, 
which set the children's pulses beating faster. 
They stared in speechless surprise at a white 

Lorna was the first to peep curiously 
between the muslin curtains. 

"Why, Jack/' she whispered, "there's the 
New Year mside ! " 

despite his lameness, he tossed Jack on to 
his shoulders. 

"Will you take us to the West Wing 
now?" they asked, breathlessly. 
M Yes, but you must still be very quiet." 
As Lorna followed in wondering expecta- 
tion she pictured the passing of the Old Year. 
She wished she could have shaken hands 
with him. It seemed sad lie should be 
obliged to go out like a candle at bedtime, 
when she fancied perhaps he had a souk 
The New Year, for sure, must he something 
very young and small, something you wanted 
to kiss and cuddle and make much of ! 


stew vsak JNsime!' 

As she spoke the joyous pealing of bells 
rang out across the country. M Listen, they 
are ringing a welcome ! " said the sun-bronzed 
warrior , bending over the cot to kiss the tiny 
atom of humanity. 

" The bells are chiming for us — for us ! " 
gasped Jack, excitedly, 4< for we've got the 
New Year here in our house ! " 

ie And the white-haired gentleman in the 
fur coat must have been the Old Year going 
out at the hall-door," replied Lorna, softly* 

Captain Hamilton nodded and smiled. 
He would not fur the world have disturbed 
the pretty idea. 

by Google 

Original from 



SKj FOOT of snow on the ground 
and jodeg, of frost. Wild birds 
are become tame birds : black- 
birds, song - thrushes, starlings, 
chaffinches, tits, hedge-sparrows, 
half-a-dozen more stand outside on 

the snow-bound lawn, mule applicants for 
outdoor relief. None of them speak ; 
hungry they are and very cold* as you 
may see by the way they fluff out their 
feathers like overcoats, but they will not beg 
aloud. You might imagine that they were 
11 on the rates " and ashamed of it, or had 

Digitized by t^OOQ lC 

Bv E. D. Cuming 

and J, A. Shepherd. 

fear of the police regulations concerning 
beggars before them, so silent are they; A 
pied wagtail, smallest of our walking birds, 
swaggers about restlessly; many of his kind 
go abroad for the winter, and those that 
remain with us seem sorry they didn't go, 
too, in weather like this. Three or four 
rooks and jackdaws blot the snow in the 
background, making shallow pretence of 
being here merely out of curioshy. The 
robin, self-appointed spokesman of the crowd, 
is on the window-sill : there is no false shame 
about the robin, hungry or satisfied, and he 
taps on the window as impatiently as if he 
had ordered breakfast over-night and paid 
for it in advance. He won't trouble you to 
throw out crumbs for kim, thanks ; if you 
will just open the window he will come in 
and help himself from the table. 

The curiosity of the rooks and jackdaws 
becomes uncontrollable when they see the 
other birds busy with the crumbs, and they 
stalk resolutely forward with the air of guests 
who haven't been asked, but feel sure the 
omission was an oversight. One song-thrush 
swallows his breakfast in rather more of a 
hurry than the rest, pounces on a big scrap 
a rook had his eye on, and flies away with it 
to the shrubbery, leaving the rook surprised 
and angry. The conduct of the thrush needs 
explanation : the fact is he and his wife fell 
into a mistake which is often made by birds 
who are guided by weather and not by the 
almanac It was so mild up to Christmas 
that that pair of thrushes concluded winter 
had somehow slirpejdj.-out of the calendar 





J A' 


altogether, so they nested, and there is the 
unfortunate thrush shivering on five eggs and 
wondering how in the snow-bound world she 
is going to provide for a family ten days 
hence. Probably the eggs will catch cold in 
the meantime ; or, what is equally likely, the 
magpies, who love eggs for breakfast and are 
not particular about their being new-laid, will 
relieve the anxious parent of all responsi- 
bility. Some authorities believe that a pro- 
portion of the thrushes go south for the cold 
weather If they take care of their throats, 
as such professional singers ought, it would 
be wise of them to winter at Torquay or 
Eastbourne or some other south coast 

Breakfast is over, but the birds hang about 
the lawn waiting for something. Like the 
poor, they are always with us in winter ; but 
they carft possibly be waiting for a distribu- 
tion of coals, blankets, and flannel petticoats. 
It sounds bad, but the truth is they want a 
drink. The pump in 
the stable-yard is frozen, 
and so are the pond 

and the horse-trough. A pan of water will 
make you as many friends as there are 
birds. And having slaked their thirst they 
disperse to go and sit in the sun as little 
boys cuddle down over a baker's grat- 
ing. The wiser among the brethren seek 
the chimney-stacks. A kirn owl one cold 
January- night frightened a respectable family 
into fits by booting down the chimney r it 
was so nice and warm, he thought it was 
a whiff of summer coming up from the dying 

Vol **iii.— 5- 

T*i i krtl-fUl-llMnm 





and stay the night " in the ivy against the 
kitchen chimney : — 

On a very cold night it's a very good plan 
To give '* dinner and sleep'* invitations 

To friends, who at I * til hue you put, if you can, 
I n j u il ic i u u sly j^i ck ed si t uat io ns. 

With an intimate friend on each side and behind, 
And a fourth on your back, if he HI stop, 

It is snug in the middle, you're certain lo find 
It so warm that you sleep like a top. 

The host's thoughtful arrangement for his 
own comfort is marred by the circumstance 
that each of his guests wants an inside place : 
whence the screaming and scolding you may 
hear after dark and the spectacle ot abusive 
sparrows tumbling out of the ivy in bunches. 


ashes below, and welcomed it after the 
manner of his kind. 

The high bodily temperature of birds goes 
far to enable them to dispense with the extra 
clothes we chillier creatures wear in winter. 
A bird's temperature read 
by the human standard 
would suggest that the 
patient was in a danger- 
ously high fever, for 
[04<leg» to ioSdeg. is the 
a vine normal — it varies 
in different species — but 
they suffer cruelly at 
night. It is cold work 
perching alone on one leg, 
so the birds make up 
sleeping parties : great tits 
have been seen hopping 
one after the other into a 
favourite bedroom, where 
they slept all together and 
kept one another warm. 
The sparrows go around 
about sunset and invite 
their friends to ** come 

'tUI.D WORK r 

DltfNEfi AND SLEEP. " 

Other birds other methods — and manners 

too, in the social sense. 

The sheep, in their well-fleeced persons, 
advertise u (Jood Beds," 
and the starlings, whose 
welcome labours to relieve 
the sheep of ticks promotes 
good feeling between them, 
are m the habit of roosting 
among the flock* Some- 
times the bird wakes in 
the morning to find his feet 
entangled in his hosfs 
wool ; then there is un- 
pleasantness : the starling 
scolds volubly, declaring 
the sheep caught him on 
purpose. The sheep looks 
at him in mild reproach, 
and other sheep crowd 
round to see the fun. 
Moorhens and such shy 
fowl will seek shelter in a 
rabbit ■ hole when the 

by Google 

Original from 



weather is very bad : they don't go right 
indoors and disturb the family; they step into 
the hall as it were and sit down quietly, as if 
they had come with a message and were wait- 
ing for the answer, 


The idle, melancholy hens gather in groups 
and comment in querulous undertones upon 
the weather. They are out on strike : give 
them warm food, and you shall have eggs ; 
no warm food, no eggs. This is the estab- 

winter, so he does not stay long abroad. The 
long-eared bat is thorough in his hibernation; 
he folds his vast earsj nearly as long as him- 
self, back along his sides, gives his heart a 
rest, and becomes cold and torpid. So 
profound is his slumber 
that it takes him about a 
quarter of an hour to wake 
up properly. 

The lizards, slow - worm, 
common snake, and viper are 
all abed underground* The 
snake and viper must find it 
hard to get to sleep as they 
can't shut their eyes, having 
no movable eyelids. That is 
where the slow-worm has the 
pull over them : he is more 
nearly related to the lizard 
family, and ability to shut his 
eyes and wink betrays the fact 
that he is highly connected, 
quite apart from his elemen- 
tary limbs. The frogs are comfortably 
asleep in the mud at the bottom of the 
horse -pond, indifferent to the cold; the 
robust frog can withstand the most Arctic 
weather ; he makes nothing of being 


h FGf» IS HOFF,' 

lished rule in the egg-producing industry, and 
must be upheld, 

Happy the creatures whom Nature orders 
to bed for the whole winter. The common 
bats are sound asleep, hanging from the roof 
in the darkest corner of the loft or inside 
some hollow tree. On a fine, mild day the bat 
may come nut for a bit, but there is nothing 
much for him to do if he does come out in 

by LiOOgle 

frozen stiff for a few days ; he thaws 
out again and smiles. Yes ! hibernation 
has advantages : — 

You salve the mighty secret of avoiding winter ills, 
The flights 10 the Riviera, the colds in chest and 
The chilblain*, bursting water pipes, the waits, and 
Christmas hills, 
By cetltnjj fat in autumn and just stepping into 

! Original from 





The rat doesn't go to bed in winter ; he is 
n highly civilized creature, the rat, and when 
the cold weather comes on shuts up his 
pleasant country-house in ditch, bank, or 
hedgerow to take up quarters in his t own- 

up mournfully. The 
song of the robin 
is the song of the 
sorrowful, but there 
is no reason to sup- 
pose this bird is 
more harassed with 
care than his neigh- 
bours ; on the con- 
trary, pugnacity and 
impudence com- 
bined rarely suffer 
from want, and the 
robin has more than 
his share of both. 
The hedge-sparrow, 
who, by the way, is 
not a sorrow at all, 
sings also on a fine 
day, but feebly ; the blackbird gets out his 
music on occasion, and the thrush practises 
now and again ; so does the skylark towards 
the end of the mouth; but wind and rani, 
or a fall of snow, reminds them that the con 


"mo music to-dav," 

house. Sewer and cellar are not ideal dwel- 
lings, but they compare favourably with an 
establishment which may be flooded by rain- 
water or blocked by snow ; then, again, the 
near propinquity of corn-stack, larder, and 
store-room offers large facilities for earning 
that dishonest livelihood winch has such 
charms for the rat He takes pride in his 
profession as a thief, as witness the ingenuity 
with which he uses his tail to get the con- 
tents o£an oil-bottle* The seasons make no 
difference to the mouse : winter and summer 
alike he pursues his joyous way, marrying and 
giving in marriage and rearing at your 
expense large families of children which you 
don't want 

There is little music in these days : the 
robin in mild weather perches on some 
naked bough, depresses his tail, and pipes 

Digitized by G* 

cert season is a long way off yet, and they 
stop singing with an abruptness that suggests 
they were 
only waiting 
for an excuse. 
The only bird 
who really 
sings in ear- 
nest at this 
season is the 
song -thrush's 
cousin, the 
missel -thrush: 
his spirits rise 
with the wind: 
when other 
birds, so to 
speak, are 
hurriedly put- 


j I from 




ting up their um- 
brellas and wind- 
ing mufflers round 
their throats and 
running under 
cover, the missel- 
thrush takes his 
stand on some 
high and exposed 
bough and sings 
with all the power 
of his voice, the 
howling wind as 
his accompani- 
ment j no wonder 
they call him the 



on a stone rick- 
post discovered 
quite a number of 
new and original 
tumbles before he 
was released from 
the ice which his 
warm feet had 
mehed and which 
froze again while 
he stood there. 
Sparrows and 
other small birds 
sitting still too 
long on iron gates, 
stones, or Jumps 
of snow are trap- 


The winter for me ! On the top of a tree, 

While the north wind is playing at driving l he 

So briskly and free. T should just 
like to see 

The north wind who'd manage lo 
whistle down me ! 

A fig for I he spring ! Fnr a deli- 
cate thitij; 

Like the blackcap or nightingale 
sunshine is meet ; 

But the bird whn can sing and 
make echoes to ring, 

f)itns sou* -wester and oilskins and 
now Has his fling. 

He is the- only professional 
vocalist who docs not mind 
bad weather \ all the others 
are very particular about the 
conditions under which they 

Incautious birds and 
beasts get into dangerous 
scrapes in severe weather. 
The snipe affecting marshy 
ground wakes to find himself 
frozen to the earth ; a 
tumbler pigeon who perched 



ped in the same way. An otter fishing one 
very cold day from the edge of the ice on the 
Irfon, in Wales, grew so 
absorbed in his sport, or in 
hopes of It, he never noticed 
that his tail was frozen fast to 
the ice— a misfortune which 
wrought that sportsman's un- 
doing at the hands of a pass- 
ing labourer* You would 
think that the coot could 
keep his apology for a tail 
out of such difficulties ; but 
a flock of some twu hundred 
once sat thinking on the ice, 
regardless of possible chil- 
blains, till their tails froze to 
it, and when frightened into 
getting up every bird left his 
tail behind him, Less com- 
mon is the curious fate which 
once cost numerous wood- 
pigeons their lives: they went 
to bed wet— a rash thing for 




'Till? FET.GX TIT. 

the night the rain gave 
way to hard frost, where- 
by when those unhappy 
wood- pigeons woke in the 
morning iheir wings were 
frozen over their tails, and 
they fell in a shower on the 
head of an astounded 
passer-by r who made the 
most of the opportunity. 
The inexperienced moor- 
hen who ventures upon 
the ice apparently labours 
under the delusion that if 
he seek with haste he will 
find open water ; he finds 
reason to regret that he 
never learned to skate. 
But in much worse case 
Is the misguided heron 
who alights on smooth 
black ice under the im- 
pression that it is water ; 
he offers an object-lesson 
in the unwisdom of trying to slide on stilts. 
The sprightly great tit joins the other birds 
on the lawn at breakfast- time, but finds 
nothing to please him on the menu unless 
there be a scrap of fat. What he loves above 
all things is a bit of suet hung by a .siring to 
A bough, in which situation he is almost the 
only bird who can get at it + It speaks 
% p otumes for his digestion that he should be 
able to dine standing upside down* The 
carrion crow is the only bird who is likely to 
dispute the great tit's right to his meal. You 
may see him sometimes perch on a convenient 
branch puzzling over the problem, 

11 Look," says he to the tit, "at that beautiful bjv 

Of fat , where the humans have *et il. 
1 1 is safe from l he eat, but ihe trouble h that 

/ cannot rnnke out how to get It/ 1 


Says the lU to the crow : ll Why, there's nothing I 

So easy as getting at suet. 
You just perch upside down, like a gymnast or clown ; 

The veriest nesting can do it." 

Gymnastics are not in the crow's line at all, 
but he has brains : he is the cleverest of a 
clever family. Give him time and he will 
discover how to pull up the suet by the 
string with beak and claw. The engaging 
manners of the great tit mask a disreputable 
character. If the King's writ ran in the 
bird-world he would be indicted and hanged 
as murderer and cannibal. He kills smaller 
birds than himself in order to eat their 
brains ; the wren is a frequent victim. 

Gnats and other insects on fine days come 
out of the crannies where they have been 
hiding to play on the 
sunny side of the hedge. 
They don't put much life 
into the game, but one can 
hardly be surprised at that 
Indoors, a weak-minded 
bluebottle, deceived by 
the warmth, comes out of 
his crack in the wall to 
look round and ascertain 
if it is time to get up for 
the summer. He is not 
half awake, and his bear- 
ing is so subdued and 
awkward that you hardly 
recognise in him the loud 
and joyful insect of Inly. 
He totters in his walk ; his 
wings are dusty, and one 
is bent as if he had gone 
to sleep with it doubled 
under him. He blunders 
round the room and settles 

by Google 








on your hand ; rubs his head 
doubtfully ; and, strolling off 
your knuckles, is surprised to 
rind that he can't walk on air. 
After a while it dawns upon him 
thai he must have made a mis- 
take in getting up so soon, and 
he staggers across the carpet, 
wondering if he can possibly 
find his way back to bed. The 
spider appears-, too, and prac- 
tises throwing his web, but lie 
seems rheumatic and uncertain 
of aim* 

The lobster is in season now. 
The lobster's attractions on the 


*teh n££iSF_Fs -op frost, 

table are great, but 
it is in its domestic 
capacity, as father, 
mother, or child, 
that the lobster 
best rejjays study. 
No crustacean is 
more carefully 
brought up by its 
mother than the 
young lobster, who 
is kept at home 
until he reaches 
months of discre- 
tion, under the eye 
of an affectionate 
parent, The angry 
eye of the paternal 
lobster, set as it is 

on a stalk, must, by the way, be 
an awful thing for his erring 
son to face ; but these be mat- 
ters pertaining to the future, as 
are the private affairs of the 
prawn, now also in season, and 
everywhere held in esteem — 
particularly in curry. 

1 he fox ought to enjoy severe 
weather. Can't you imagine him 
scanning the " Hunting Ap- 
pointments" in The field and 
chuckling over the fact that this 
frost is going to cancel them 
all as it did last week? Hounds 
are in kennel and won't come 
out, except for road exercise ; 
and if lie likes he can go and 
drive the whole pack to frenzy by grinning at 
them through the bars. Then, too, he can 
spend the night out, as his habit is, without 
finding his front door " stopped "against him 
in the interests of hunting, when he comes 
home in the small hours, It is maddening to 
find the door locked at four in the morning. 
The stoat is alert and active in winter ; 
famine among birds means high carnival for 
him, and he and his cousins the marten weasel 
and polecat enjoy themselves and grow faL 
The stoat must regard his cousins as poor 
relations : he changes his summer coat for a 
white one in winter, retaining only the black 
tip to his tail, while they wear the same 
clothes all the year round. It is not worth 
the stoat's while to make the change in the 
comparatively mild winter of the south of 
England, so he doesn't generally go to the 
expense ; in the north he does it as a matter 
of course, even as do the mountain hare and 
the ptarmigan, 

-^ <r. ■ ■ i — •* 


l.fcAi: MM AT- 


'original from 

The House Under the Sea. 

By Max Pembkrton, 



0W t when Seth Barker cried 
out that a ship was ashore on 
the dangerous reefs to the 
northward of the main island, 
it is not necessary to tell you 
what we, a crew of British 
seamen, were called upon to do. The words 
were scarcely spoken before I had given the 
order, * ( Stand by the boats," and sent every 
man to his station* Excited the hands were, 
that I will not deny \ excited and willing 
enough to tell you about it if you'd asked 
thern ; but no man among them opened his 
lips, and while they stood there, anxious and 
ready, 1 had my glass to my eye and tried 
to make out the steamer and what had 
befallen her. Nor was Mister Jacob behind 
me, but he and Peter Bligh at my side, we 
soon knew the truth and made up our minds 
about it 

" There's a ship on the reef, sure enough, 
and by the cut of her she's the Santa Crun 
we spoke this afternoon," said Mister Jacob, 
and added, * l a dangerous shore, sir, a 
dangerous shore/' 

" But full of kind-hearted people that fire 
their guns at poor shipwrecked mariners," 
put in Peter Bligh, I wouldn't believe him 
at first, but there was no denying it, awful truth 
that it was, when a few minutes had passed. 

"Good heavens/' cried I, "it can't be so, 
Peter, and yet that's a rifle's tongue, or I've 
lost my hearing/' 

Well, we £ll stood together and listened as 
men listen for some poor creature's death- 
cry, or the sounds which come in the stillness 
of the night to affright and unnerve us. 
Sure enough, you couldn't have counted ten 
before the report of guns was heard distinctly 
above the distant roar of breakers, while 
flashes of crimson light playing about the 
reef seemed to tell the whole story without 
another word from me. 

"Those demons ashore are shooting the 
crew," cried I; "did man ever hear such 
bloody work ? I'll have a reckoning for this, 
if it takes me twenty years. Lower away 
the boats, lads ; I'm going to dance to that 

by Google 

They swung the two longboats out on the 
davits, and the port crew were in their seats, 
when Mister Jacob touched my arm and 
questioned my order, a thing I haven't 
known him do twice in ten years, 

" Beg pardon, sir," said he, " but there's 
no boat that will help the Santa Cru% to- 

u And why, Mister Jacob — why do you say 

11 Because she's gone where neither you 
nor me wish to go yet awhile. Mister Begg." 

I stood as though he had shot me, and 
clapping my glass to my eye I took another 
look towards the northern reef and the ship 
that was stranded there* But no ship was to 
be seen. She had disappeared in a twinkling ; 
the sea had swallowed her up. And over the 
water, as an eerie wail, lasting and doleful, 
came the death-cries of those who perished 
with her 

"God rest their poor souls and punish 
them that sent them there," said Peter Bligh ; 
but Mister Jacob was still full of his prudent 

"We're four miles out, and the moon will 
be gone in ten minutes, sir. You couldn't 
make the reef if you tried, and if you could, 
you'd find none living* This sea would best 
the biggest boat that ever a ship carried — it 
will blow harder in an hour, and what then? 
We've friends of our own to served and the 
door that Providence opens we've no right 
to shut I say nothing against humanity, 
Captain Begg, but I wouldn't hunt the dead 
in the water when I could help the living 

1 saw his point in a moment, and had 
nothing to say against it, No small boat 
could have lived in the reefs about the 
northern end of the island with the sea that 
was running that night. If the demons who 
fired down upon the poor fellows of the 
Santa Cruz were still watching like vultures 
for human meat, like as not the main island 
would be free of them for us to go ashore as 
we pleased. A better opportunity might not 
be found for a score of months. I never 
blame myself, least of all now, when I know 
Kuth Bellenden's story, that I listened to the 
clear-headed wisdom of Anthony Jacob. 

"You're right, as always, Mister Jacob, 
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I've no call to 
take these good 
fellows on a fool's 
errand. And it's 
going to blow 
hard, as you say. 
We'll take in one 
of the boats, and 
those that are for 
the shore will 
make haste to 
get aboard the 
other. 1 ' 

This I said to 
him, but to the 
men I put it in 
a few seaman's 

" Lads/' I said, 
"no boat that 
South am pton 
ever built could 
swim in yonder 
tide where it 
makes between 
the reefs. We'd 
like to help ship- 
mates, but the 
chance is not 
ours. There's 
another little 
shipmate ashore 
there that needs 
our help pretty 
badly. I'm going 
in for her sake, 
and there's not a man of you that will not 
do his duty by the ship when I'm gone. Aye, 
vuu'Il stand by Mister Jacob, lads, I may tell 
him that? 3 ' 

They gave me a rousing cheer, which was 
a pretty foolish thing to have done, and it 
took all my voice to silenc e them. Lucky 
for us, there was a cloud over the moon now, 
and darkness like a black vapour upon the 
sea- Not a lamp burned on the Swifter n 
Cr&ss ; not a cabin window but wasn't 
curtained* What glow came from her funnel 
was not more than a hazy red light over the 
waters ; and when Ave of us (for we took 
Harry Doe to stand by ashore) stepped into 
the longboat, and set her head due west for 
the land, we lost the steamer in five minutes 
— and, God knows, we were never to see her 
again on the high seas or off. 

Now, I have said that the wind had begun 
to blow fresh since sunset, and at two bells in 
the first watch, the time we left the ship, the 
sea ran high, and it was not over safe even 

Vol. Jixiii.— 0. 





in the longboat to be cruising for a shore we 
knew so little about I have always ac- 
counted it more good luck than good sea- 
manship that brought us to the cove at 
last, and set us all, wet but cheerful, on the 
dry, white sand about the ladders foot. 
There was shelter in the bay both for man 
and ship, and when we'd dragged the long- 
boat up on the beach we gave Harry Doe 
his orders and left him to his duty. 

"If there's danger fire your gun," said 1 — 
"once, if you wish to call us ; twice, if you 
think we should siand off I Jut you won't 
do that unless things are at the worst, and 
I'm hoping for the best, when you won't do 
it at all" 

He answered, " Aye, aye," in a whisper 
which was like a bear's growl ; and we four, 
Peter Bligh, Seth Barker, and the lad Dolly, 
besides myself, climbed the ladder like cats 
and stood at the cliffs head. To say that our 
hearts were in our mouths would not be 
strict truth, for I never feared any man 

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beast, or demon yet ; and I wasn't going to 
begin that night — nor were the others more 
ready, that I will answer for them. But 
remembering the things we had seen on the 
reef, the words which Ruth Bellenden had 
spoken to me, and that which happened to 
the lad and myself last time we came ashore; 
remembering this, it's not to be wondered at 
that our hearts beat a bit quicker, and that 
our hands went now and again to the pistols 
we carried. For, just think of it — there we 
were at nine o'clock of a dark night, in a 
thick wood, with the trees making ghosts 
about us, and the path as narrow as a ship's 
jplank, and no knowledge of who walked the 
woods with us nor any true reckoning of 
what was to follow down below. What man 
wouldn't have held his tongue . at $uch a 
time, or argued with himself that it might 
end badly, and he never see the sun again ? 
Not Jasper Begg, as I bear witness. Not he, 
by all that's truthful. 

Now, I put myself at the head of our 
fellows and, the better to find the track, I 
went down on my hands and my knees like 
a four-footed thing, and signalling to those 
behind with a bosun's whistle, I led them 
well enough through the wood to the wicker- 
basket bridge ; and would have gone on 
from there straight down to the house but 
for something which happened at the clearing 
of the thicket, just as I stood up to bid the 
men go over. Startling it was, to be sure, 
and enough to give any man a turn ; nor 
did I wonder that Peter Bligh should have 
cried out as he did when first he clapped 
eyes upon it. 

" Holy Mother of Music," says he, " 'tis 
the angels singing, or I'm a dirty nigger !" 

" Hold your tongue," says I, in a whisper ; 
" are ycju afraid of two young women, 

" Of three," says he, " which being odd is 
lucky. When my poor father " 

" Confound your father," says I ; " hold 
your tongue and wait." 

He lay low at this, and the rest of us 
gaped, open-mouthed, as though we were 
staring at a fairy-book. There, before us, 
coming down from the black rocks above, 
leaping from step to step of the stone, were 
three young girls ; but, aye, the queerest sort 
that ever tantalized a man with their pretti- 
ness. You may well ask, the night being 
inky dark, how we managed to see them at 
all ; but let me tell you that they carried 
good resin torches in their hands, and the 
wild light, all gold and crimson against 
the rocks, shone as bright as a ship's 

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flare and as far. Never have I seen 
such a thing, I say, and never shall. There 
were the three of them, like young deer 
on a bleak hillside, singing and laughing 
and leaping down, and, what's more, speak- 
ing to each other in an odd lingo,, with 
here a word of French and there a word of 
German, and after that something that was 
beyond me and foreign to my under- 

" God be good to me — saw man ever such 
a sight ? And the dress of 'em, the dress of 
'em," whispers Peter Bligh. But I clapped 
my hand upon his mouth and stopped him 
that time. 

" The dress is all right," said I ; " what 
I'm wondering is how three of that sort came 
in such a place as this. And well born too, 
well born, or I don't know the meaning of 
the term ! " 

They were pretty creatures, and their dress 
was like the rest of them. Short skirts all 
looped and frilled with flowers, toggery above 
cut out of some white skin, with caps to 
match and their hair falling in big romping 
curls about it— they were for all the world 
like the dancers you see at a stage play and 
just as active. And to hear their voices, 
sweet and musical, floating from ravine to 
ravine like a choir singing in a place of 
echoes, aye, that was something you might not 
soon forget But what they were doing in 
such a place, or how they came there, the 
Lord above alone knew, and not a plain 
seaman like Jasper Begg. 

"What are they saying, Peter— what do 
you make of it ? " I asked him, under my 

" 'Tis the French lingo," says he, foolish- 
like, " and if it's not that, 'tis the German — 
leastwise no Christian man that I know of 
could distinguish between 'em." 

" Peter," says I, " that's what you learn in 
the asylum. 'Tis no more the French lingo 
than your own. Why, hearken to it." 

Well, he listened, and soon we heard a 
pretty echo from the valley, for they'd gone 
down toward the gardens now ; and one word 
repeated often had as nice a touch of music 
as I remember hearing. It was just this : 
" Rosamunda — munda — munda," and you 
can't think how fresh the young voice sounded 
in that lonely place, or what a chill it gave a 
man when he remembered the demons over at 
the reef and what they'd done to the crew of 
the Santa Cruz, As far as that goes, I do 
believe to this day that our fellows believed 
they'd seen nothing more nor less than an 
apparition out of the black rocks above them, 

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and it wasn't until I'd spoken to them in 
good honest English that I got them to go 
on again, 

"Flesh or spirit, that's not a lot to whiten 
a man's gills," cried I ; " why, thunder, Peter 
Bligh, you're big enough to put 'em all in 
your pocket, and soft enough they'd lie when 
they got there, Do you mean to tell me/' 
said I, u that four hale and strong men are 
to be frightened out of their wits by three 
pretty girls ? — and you a religious man, too, 
Peter ! Why, I'm ashamed of you 3 that I am, 

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lads, right down ashamed 
of you ! " 

They plucked up at this, 
and Peter he made haste 
to excuse himself. 

"If they was Christian 
men with knives in their 
hands,' 1 says he, " Vd put 
up a bit of a prayer, and 
trust to the Lord to shoot 
'em ; but them three's a gen 
all reason, at this time 
of night in such a lone 

" Go on with you, Peter," 
chimes in Dolly Venn ; 
"three ripping little girls, 
and don't I wish they'd 
ask me in to tea ! \Vhy t 
look, they're down by the 
house now, and somebody 
with them, though whether 
it*s a man or a woman I 
really don't pretend to say," 
" I'm denied if I don't 
think it's a lion," says Seth 
Barker, asking my pardon 
for the liberty. 

We all stood still at this, 
for we were on the hillside 
just above the house now, 
and down on the fair grass- 
way below us we espied the 
three little girls with their 
torches still burning, and 
they as deep in talk with a 
stranger as a man might 
have been with his own 
mother, A more remark- 
able human being than the 
one these little ladies had 
happened upon I don't look to see again the 
world around, Man or lion— God forgive 
me if I know what to call him. He'd hair 
enough, shaggy hair curling about his 
shoulders, to have stuffed a feather bed. 
His dress was half man's, half woman's. 
He'd a tattered petticoat about bis legs, 
a seaman's blouse for his body, and a 
lady's shawl above that upon his shoulders 
- — his legs were bare as a barked tree, 
and what boots he had should have 
been in the rag - shop. What was more 
wonderful still was to see the manner of the 
young ladies towards him — for I shall always 
call them that— they petted him and fondled 
him, and one put a mock crown of roses on 
his head. Then, with that pretty song of 
theirs, " Rosamunda — munda— munda," they 

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all ran off together toward the northern 
shore and left us in the darkness, as sur- 
prised a party of men as you'll readily meet 

" Well," says Peter Bligh, and he was the 
first among us to speak, u yon's a nice ship- 
mate to speak on a quiet road. So help me 
thunder, but I wouldn't pass round the tin 
for him in a beauty show, no, not much ! 
Did ye see the hair of him, captain — did ye 
see the hair?" 

" And the girls kissing him as though he 
were Apollo," cries Dolly Venn, who, I don't 
doubt, would have done the kissing willingly 
himself. But I hushed their talk, and with- 
out more ado I went straight down to Ruth 
Bellenden's house. All the strange things 
we'd seen and heard, the uncanny sights, the 
firing on the reef, the wild man ashore, the 
little girls from the hills— all these, I say, 
began to tell me my mistress's story as a 
written book might never have done. " She's 
need of me," I said, " sore need ; and by 
God's help I'll bring her out of this place 
before to-morrow's sun." 

For how should I know what long days 
must pass before I was to leave Ken's Island 
again ? 



I had made up my mind to take every 
due precaution before going up to the house 
where my mistress lived ; and with caution 
in my head I left Seth Barker, the carpenter, 
a little way up on the hill path, while I set 
Peter Bligh at the gate of the garden, and 
posted Dolly Venn round at the northern 
side, where the men who had looted the 
Santa Cruz might be looked for with any 
others that I had no knowledge of. When 
this was done, and they understood that 
they were to fire a gun if the need arose, I 
opened the wicket-gate and crept up the grass 
path for all the world like an ill-visaged 
fellow who had no true business there. Not 
a sound could I hear in all that place ; not a 
dog barked, nor a human voic^ spoke. Even 
the wind came fitful and gusty about the 
sheltered house, and so quiet was it between 
the squalls that my own footfall almost could 
scare me. For, you see, a whisper spoken 
at the wrong time might have undone all — 
a clumsy step have cost us more than a man 
cared to think. We were but four, and, for 
all I knew, there might have been four 
hundred on Ken's Island. You don't 
wonder, therefore, if I asked myself at times 

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whether to-morrow's sun would find us living, 
or what our misfortune might spell for one I 
had come so far to serve. 

It was very dark in the garden, as I have 
told you, but two of the windows in the 
house were lighted up and two golden rings 
of light thrown out upon the soft grass I 
trod. I stood a long, time debating which 
window to knock upon — for it was a fearful 
lottery, I must say — and when I'd turned 
it over and over in my head, and now made 
out that it was this window and now plumped 
for the other, I took up a pebble at last and 
cast it upon the pane nearest to the door — 
for that seemed to me the more likely room, 
and I'd nothing else but common sense to 
guide me. You may judge of my feelings 
when no notice was taken of my signal 
except by a dog, which began to yap like a 
pup and to make such a scare that I thought 
every window and every door must be opened 
that very instant and as many men out on 
top of me. I said, surely, that it was all up 
with Jasper Begg that journey ; but odd to 
to tell it, the dog gave over at last, and no 
one showed himself, neither was there any 
whistle from my company ; and I was just 
making ready to throw another stone when 
the second light was turned out all of a 
sudden and, the long window being opened, 
Ruth Bellenden— or, to be more correct, 
Madame Czerny — herself came out into the 
garden, and stood looking round about 
as though she knew that I was there and 
had been waiting for me. When at last 
she saw me she didn't speak or make any 
sign, but going about to the house again she 
held the window open for me, and I passed 
into the dark room with her, and there held 
her hand in mine, I do believe as though I 
would never let it go again. 

44 Jasper," says she, in a whisper that was 
pretty as the south wind in springtime ; 
" Jasper Begg ! How could it be anyone 
else? Oh, we must light a candle, Jasper 
Begg," says she, u or we shall lose ourselves 
in the dark." 

" Miss Ruth," said I, " light or dark, I'm 
here according to my orders, and the ship's 
here, and as I said to you before the yellow 
boy to-day, we're waiting for our mistress to 
go aboard." 

She had her back to me when I said this, 
and was busy enough drawing the curtains 
and lighting the lamp again. The light 
showed me that she wore a rich black gown 
with fluffy stuff over it, and a bit of a sparkle 
in the way of diamonds like a band across 
her parted hair. The face was deceiving, 

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now lighted up by one of the old smiles, now 
bard set as one who had suffered much for 
her years. But there was nothing Over- 
womanish in her talk, and we two thrashed it 
out there just the same as if Ken's Island 
wasn't full of demons, and the lives of me and 
my men worth what a spin of the coin might 
buy them at 

" You mustn't call me Miss Ruth/ 1 says she, 
when she turned from the lamp and tidied up 
her writing on the table ; t( of course you know 
that, Jasper Begg. And you at my wedding, 
too— is it really not more than twelve long 
mouths ago?' 1 
A sigh passed her lips, such a sigh as tells 

a woman's story better than all the books ; 

and in that moment the new look came 

upon her face* the look I had set- n when the 

yellow man changed words with her in the 

"It's thirteen months three weeks since 

you went up with Mr. Oerny to the cathedral 

at Nice," was my next word ; '* the days go 

slow on this out-of-the-way shore, I'll be 

bound — until our friends come s Miss Ruth, 

until we're sure they haven't forgotten us," 
I had a meaning in this, and be sure she 

took it Not that 

she answered me 

out and away as 

I wished ; for she 

put on the pretty 

air of wife and 

mistress who 

wouldn't tell any 

of her husband's 

"Why, yes," 

she said, very 

slowly, 4I the days 

are long and the 

nights longer, 

and, of course, 

my husband is 

much away from 

I nodded my 

head and drew 

the chair she'd 

offered me close 

to the table. On 

her part she was 

looking at the 

clock as though 

she wished that 

the hands of it 

might stand stilL 

I read it that we 

hadn't much time 

to lose, and what we had was no time for fair 
words. >■ 

11 Miss Ruth," says l s without more parley, 
** from what I've seen to-night I don't doubt 
that any honest man would be glad to get as far 
as he could from Ken's Island and its people. 
You'll pardon what a plain seaman is 'going 
to say, and count him none the less a friend 
for saying it. When you left money in the 
backer's hands to commission a ship and 
bring her to this port, your words to me 
were, 1 1 may have need of you.' Miss Ruth, 
you have need of me — I should be no more 
than a fool if I couldn't see that. You have 
sore need of me, lady, and if you won't say 
so for yourself, I take leave to say it for you," 

She raised a hand as though she would 
not hear me — but I was on a clear course 
now, and I held to it in spite of her. 

" Yes," I said, " you've need of your 
friends to-night, and it's a lucky wind that 
brought them to this shore. What has 
passed. Miss Ruth, in these months you 
speak of, it's not for me to ask or inquire, I 
have eyes in my head, and they show me what 
I would give my fortune not to see. You're 
unhappy here — you're not treated well," 


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Original from 

4 6 


I waited for her to speak ; but not a word 
would she say. White she was, as a flower 
from her own garden, and once or twice she 
shivered as though the cold had struck her. 
I was just going on to speak again, when 
what should happen but that her little head 
went down on the table and she began to sob 
as though her heart would break. 

" Oh, Jasper Begg, how I have suffered, 
how I have suffered ! " said she, between her 
sobs ; and what could I do, what could any 
man do who would kiss the ground a woman 
walks upon but has no right or title to? 
Why, hold his tongue, of course, though it 
hurt him cruelly to do any such thing. 

" Miss Ruth," said I, very foolish, " please 
don't think of that now. I'm here to help 
you, the ship's here, we're waiting for you to 
go aboard." 

She dried her tears and tried to look up at 
me with a smile. 

"Oh, I'm just a child, just a child again, 
Jasper," cries she ; " a year ago I thought 
myself a woman, but that's all passed. And 
I shall never go away on your ship, Jasper 
Begg — never, never. I shall die on Ken's 
Island as so many have died." 

I stood up at this and pointed to the clock. 

41 Little friend," I said, " if you'll put a 
cloak about your shoulders and leave this 
house with me I'll have you safe aboard the 
Southern Cross in twenty minutes by that 
clock, as God is my witness." 

It was no boast- for that I could have 
done as any seaman knows ; and you may 
well imagine that I stood as a man struck 
dumb when I had her answer. 

" Why, yes," she said, " you could put me 
on board your boat, Captain Jasper, if every 
step I took was not watched ; if every crag 
had not its sentinel ; if there were not a 
hundred to say ' Go back — go back to your 
home.' Oh, how can you know, how can 
you guess the things I fear and dread in this 
awful place ? You, perhaps, because the ship 
is waiting will be allowed to return to it 
again. But I, never, never again to my life's 

A terrible look crossed her face as she 
said this, and with one swift movement she 
opened a drawer in the locker where she did 
her writing, and took from it a little book 
which she thrust, like a packet, into my 

" Read," she said, with startling earnest- 
ness, " read that when you are at sea again. 
I never thought that any other eyes but mine 
would see it ; but you, Jasper, you shall read 
it. It will tell you what I myself could never 

tell. Read it as you sail away from here, 
and then say how you will come back to 
help the woman who needs your help so 

I thrust the book into my pocket, but was 
not to be put off like that. 

" Read it I will, every line," said I ; " but 
you don't suppose that Jasper Begg is about 
to sail away and leave you in this plight, 
Miss Ruth ! He'd be a pretty sort of 
Englishman to do that, and it's not in his 
constitution, I do assure you ! " 

She laughed at my earnestness, but re- 
collecting how we stood and what had 
befallen since sunset, she would hear no 
more of it. 

" You don't understand ; oh, you don't 
understand ! " she cried, very earnestly. 
" There's danger here, danger even now while 
you and I are talking. Those who have 
gone out to the wreck will be coming home 
again ; they must not find you in this house, 
Jasper Begg, must not, must not ! For my 
sake, go as you came. Tell all that thought 
of me how I thank them. Some day, perhaps, 
you will learn how to help me. I am 
grateful to you, Jasper — you know that I am 

She held out both her hands to me, and 
they lay in mine, and I was trying to speak a 
real word from my heart to her when there 
came a low, shrill whistle from the garden- 
gate, and I knew that Peter Bligh had seen 
something and was calling me. 

" Miss Ruth," says I, " that's old Peter 
Bligh and his danger signal. There'll be 
someone about, or he wouldn't do it." 

Well, she never said a word. I saw a 
shadow cross her face, and believed she was 
about to faint. Nor will anyone be surprised 
at that when I say that the door behind us 
had been opened while we talked, and there 
stood Kess Denton, the yellow man, watching 
us like a hound that would bite presently. 

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Now, no sooner did I see the yellow man 
than my mind was fully made up, and I 
determined what harbour to make for. " If 
you're there, my lad," said I to myself, " the 
others are not far behind you. You've seen 
me come in, and it's your intention to prevent 
me going out again. To be caught like a rat 
in a trap won't serve Ruth Bellenden, and it 
won't serve me. I'm for the open, Kess 
Denton," said I, " and no long while about 
it, either." 

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This I said, but I didn't mean to play the 
startled kitten, and without any token of 
surprise or such-like I turned round to Miss 
Ruth and gave her M good evening," 

" Vm sorry you're not coming aboard, 
Madame Czerny/' says 1 ; H we weigh in an 
hour, and it will be a month or more before 
I call in again. But you shan't wait long for 
the news if I can help it ; and as for your 
brother, Mr. Ken rick, I'll trust to hear from 
him at 'Frisco 
and to tell you 
what he thinks 
on my return. 
Good - night, 
madam/ 1 said I, 
"and the best 
of health and 

I held out 
my hand, and 
she shook it like 
one who didn't 
know what she 
was doing, The 
yellow man 
came a step 
nearer and said, 
** Halloa, my 
hearty/' I 
nodded rn y 
head to him and 
he put his hand 
on my shoulder. 
Poor fool, he 
thought I was a 
child, perhaps, 
and to be 
treated as one ; 
but Td learnt a 
thing or two 
about taking 
care of myself 
in Japan, and 
you couldn't 
have counted 
two before I 
had his arm 
twisted under mine, and he gave a yell they 
must have heard up in the hills, 

II If you cry out like that you'll ruin your 
beautiful voice," said I ; ** hasn't anyone ever 
asked you to sing hymns in a choir ? Well, 
I'm surprised* Goodnight, my boy ; I shall 
i>e coming back for your picture before many 
days have passed/' ' 

Upon this I stepped toward the door, 
and thought that I had done with him ; but 
no sooner wag I out in the garden than some- 

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thing went singing by my ear, and upon that 
a second dose with two reports that echoed 
in the hills like rolling thunder. No written 
music was necessary to tell me what sort of a 
tune that was, and I swung round on my 
heel and gripped the man by the throat 
almost before the echoes of the shot had 
died away, 

" Kess Denton/ 1 said I, " if you will have 
it, you shall ! " and with that I wrenched the 

pistol from his 
grasp and struck 
him a blow over 
the head that 
sent him down 
without a word, 
"One/' said 
I, to myself, 
"one that 
helped to make 
little Ruth Bel- 
lenden suffer" ; 
and with that I 
set off running 
and never 
looked to the 
right of me or 
to the left until 
I saw Peter 
Biigh at the 
gate and heard 
his honest 

11 Is it you 
is it you your- 
self, Mr, Begg? 
Thank God for 
that ! w cries he, 
and it was no 
longer in a whis- 
per ; " there's 
men in the hills, 
andSeth Barker 
whistling fit to 
crack hrs lips* 
Is the young 
lady comi ng 
aboard, sir? 
No? — well I'm not surprised neither, though 
this shore do seem a queerish sort of 
place — — " 

I cut him short, and Dolly Venn running 
round from his place in the garden I asked 
him for his news. The thing now was to 
find a road to the sea. What could be done 
for Ruth Bellenden that night was over and 
passed. Our chance lay on the deck of the 
Southern Cross* and after that at 'Frisco, 
" What have you seen, Dolly Venn ? Be 

Original from 


4 8 


quick, lad, for we can't linger," was my 
question to him so soon as he was within 
hail, and for his answer he pointed to the 
trees which bordered the garden on the 
eastward side. 

" The wood is full of armed men, sir. 
Two of them nearly trod upon me while I 
was lying there. They carry rifles, and seem 
to be Germans — I couldn't be sure of that, 


" Germans or chimpanzees, we're going by 
them this night. Where's Seth Barker — why 
doesn't he come down ? Does he think we 
can pass by the hill-road ? — the wooden 
block ! Call him, 'one of you." 

They were about to do this when Seth 
Barker himself came panting down the hill- 
path, and, what was more remarkable, he 
carried an uncouth sort of bludgeon in his 
hand. I could see he'd had a bit of a rough 
and tumble on the way, but that wasn't the 
time for particulars. 

" Come aboard, sir," says he, breathing 
heavy; " the gangway's blocked, but I give 
one of 'em a bit of a knock with his own 
shillelagh, and that's all right." 

" Is there any more up there ? " I asked, 

•* May be a dozen, may be more. They're 
up on the heights looking for you to go up, 

11 Aye," said I, " pleasant company, no 
doubt. Well, we must strike eastward some- 
how, lads, and the sooner the better. We'll 
hold to the valley a bit and see where that 
leads us. Do you, Seth Barker, keep that 
bit of a shillelagh ready, and, if anyone asks 
you a question, don't you wait to answer it." 

Now, I had resolved to try and get down 
to the sea by the valley road and, once upon 
the shore, to signal Harry Doe, if possible ; 
and, if not him, then the ship herself as a 
last resource. Any road seemed to me better 
than this trap of a house with armed men all 
about it and a pistol bullet ready for any 
stranger that lingered. " Aboard the ship," 
said I, "we'll show them a clean pair of heels 
to 'Frisco and, after that, ask the American 
Government what it can do for Ruth Bellen- 
den and for her husband." We were four 
against a hundred, perhaps, and desperate 
men against us. If we got out of the scrape 
with our skins we should be as lucky a lot as 
ever sailed the Northern Pacific Ocean. But 
should we — could we ? Why, it was a thou- 
sand to one against it ! 

I said this when we plunged into the 
wood ; and yet I will bear witness that I 
got more excitement than anything else 

by tj 



out of that venture, and I don't believe the 
others got less. There we were, the four 
of us, trampling through the brushwood, 
crushing down the bushes, now lying low, 
now up a-running — and not a man that 
wouldn't have gone through it twice for Ruth 
Bellenden's sake. If so be that the night 
was to cost us our lives, well, crying wouldn't 
help it— and those that were against us were 
flesh and blood, all said and done, and no 
spirits to scare a man. To that I set it 
down that we went on headlong and despe- 
rate. As for the thicket itself, it was full of 
men — I could see their figures between the 
trees; and we must have passed twenty of 
them in the darkness before one came out 
plump on our path and cried out to us to 

" Hold, hold," shouts he ; " is it you, Bob 
Williams ? " 

41 It's Bob Williams, right enough," says I, 
and with that I gave him one between the 
eyes and down he went like a felled ox. The 
man who was with him, stumbling up against 
Seth Barker, had a touch of the shillelagh 
which was like a rock falling upon a fly. He 
just gave one shuddering groan and fell 
backwards, clutching the branches. Little 
Dolly Venn laughed aloud in his excite- 
ment; and Peter Bligh gave a real Irish 
" hurrugh " ; but the darkness had swallowed 
it all up in a minute, and we were on again, 
heading for the shore like those that run a 
race for their very lives. 

" Do you see any road, Peter Bligh ? " 
asked I, for my breath was coming short 
now ; " do you see any road, man ? " 

" The deuce a one, sir, and me weighing 
fourteen stone ! " 

" You'll weigh less when we get down, 

" And drink more, the saints be praised ! " 

" Was that a rifle-shot or a stone from the 
hills ? " I asked them a moment later. Dolly 
Venn answered me this time. 

" A rifle-shot, captain. They'll be shooting 
one another, then— it's ripping, ripping ! " 

44 Look out, lad, or it'll be dripping ! " cried 
I ; " don't you see there's water ahead ? " 

I cried the warning to him and stood 
stock-still upon the borders of as black a 
pool as I remember to have seen in any 
country. The road had carried us to the 
foot of the hills, almost to the chasm which 
the wicker- bridge spanned; and we could 
make but that same bridge far above us 
like a black rope in the twilight. The 
water itself was covered with some clinging 
plants, and full of ugly, winding snakes 




which caused the whole pool to shine 
with a kind of uncanny light ; while 
an overpowering odour, deadly arid stifling, 
steamed up from it, and threatened to 
choke a man. What was worse than this was 

or if I have spoken of it pith moderation. 
A night as black as ink, mind you ; my 
company in the heart of a wood with big 
teak trees all round us, and cliffs on our 
right towering up to the sky like mountains. 

a cfose thicket bor- 
dering the pond on 
three sides, so that 
we must either 
swim for it or turn bade the way 
we came. The former course was 
not to be thought of. Already I 
could hear footsteps, and boughs 
snapping and breaking not many 
yards from where we stood, To 
cross the pond might have struck the bravest 
man alive with terror. I'd have sooner 
forfeited my life time over than have touched 
one of those slimy snakes I could see wrig- 
gling over the leaves to the bottom of the 
still water. What else to do I had no 
more notion than the dead. "It's the end, 
Jasper Begg," said I to myself, u the end of 
you and your venture." But of Ruth Bellen- 
den I wouldn't think, How could I, when I 
knew the folks that were abroad on Kens 
Island ? 

I will just ask any traveller to stand with 
me where I stood that night and to say 
if these words are overmuch for the plight, 



Before us a pool of inky water, all worming 
with odd lights and lines of blue fire, like 
flukes of phosphorus on a hath, and alive 
with the hissing of hundreds of snakes. 
Upon our left hand a scrubby thicket and 
a marsh beneath it, I make ure ; Czcrny's 
demons, who had shot the poor folks on the 
Stuifti Cruz, at our heels, and we but four 
against the lot of them, Would any man, 1 
ask, have believed that he could walk into 
such a trap and get out of it unharmed ? If 
$n, it wasn't Jasper Begg t nor lYter Bligh, 
nor little Dolly Venn, nor Seth Barker with 
the bludgeon in his hand. They'd as good 
as given it up when we came to the pool and 




stood there like hunting men that have lost 
all hope. 

" Done, by all that's holy ! " says Peter 
Bligh, drawing back from the pond as from 
some horrid pit. " Snakes 1 have seen, 
nateral an<J unnateral, but them yonder give 
me the creeps " 

"Creeps or no creeps, the others will be up 
here in five minutes, and what are you going 
to do then, Peter Bligh, what then ? " asks 
I, for as I'm a living man I didn't know 
which way to turn from it. 

Seth Barker was the one that answered me. 

" Pm going to knock some nails in, by your 
leave," says he, and with that he stood very 
still and bade us listen. The whole wood 
was full of the sound of "halloaing" now. 
Far and wide I heard question and answer, 
and a lingering yodle such as the Swiss boys 
make on the mountains. It couldn't be 
many minutes, I said, before the first man 
was out on our trail, and there I was right, 
for one of them came leaping out of the 
wood straight into Peter Bligh's arms before 
Pd spoken another word. Poor fellow— it 
was the last good-night for him in this world 
— for Peter passes him on, so to speak, and 
he went headlong into the pond without 
anyone knowing how he got there. A more 
awful end I hope I may never hear of, and 
yet, God knows, he brought it on himself. 
As for Peter Bligh, the shock set him sobbing 
like a woman. It was all my work to get 
him on again. 

" No fault of ours," said I ; "we're here for 
a woman's sake, and if there's man's work to 
do, we'll do it, lads. Take my advice and 
you'll turn straight back and run for it. 
Better a tap on the head than a cry in 
yonder pool." 

They replied fearsomely — the strain was 
telling upon them badly. That much I 
learnt from their husky voices and the way 
they kept close to me, as though I could 
protect them. Seth Barker, especially, big 
man that he was, began to mutter to himself 
in the wildest manner possible, while ! ; ttle 
Dolly burst into whistling from time tc u^e 
in a way that made me crazy. 

" That's right, lad," cried I, " tell them 
you're here, and ask after the health of their 
women-folk. You've done with this world, I 
see, and made it straight for the next. If 
you've a match in your pocket, strike it to 
keep up their spirits." 

Well, he stopped short, and I was ashamed 
of myself a minute after for speaking so to a 
mere lad whose life was before him and 
who'd every right to be afraid. 

" Come," said I, more kindly, " keep close 
to me, Dolly, and if you don't know where 
I am, why, put out your hand and touch me. 
I've been in worse scrapes than this, my boy, 
and I'll lead you out of it somehow. After all, 
we've the ship over yonder, and Mister Jacob 
isn't done with yet. Keep up your heart, 
then, and put your best leg forward." 

Now, this was spoken to put courage into 
him— not that I believed what I said, but 
because he and the others counted upon me, 
and my own feelings had to go under some- 
how. For the matter of that, it looked all 
Lombard Street to a China orange against us 
when we took the woodland path again, and 
so I believe it would ha\e been but for some- 
thing which came upon us like a thunder- 
flash, and which Peter Bligh was the first to 
call our attention to. 

" Is it fireflies or lanterns ? " cries he all at 
once, bringing out the words like a pump 
might have done ; " yonder on the hill-side, 
shipmates — is it fireflies or lanterns ? " 

I stood to look, and while I stood Seth 
Barker named the thing. 

" It's lanterns," cries he ; " lanterns, sure 
and certain, captain." 

" And the three ripping little girls carrying 
them," puts in Dolly Venn. 

" Tis no woman ever born that would hunt 
down four poor sailor-men," cries Peter Bligh. 

"To say nothing of the he-lion they was 
a-fondling of," from Seth Barker, 

" Lads," said I, in my turn, " this is the 
unlooked for, and I, for one, don't mean to 
pass it by. I'm going to ask those young 
ladies for a short road to the hills— and not 
lose any time about it either." 

They all said " Aye, aye," and we ran 
forward together. The halloaing in the wood 
was closing in about us now ; you could hear 
voices wherever you turned an ear. As for 
the lanterns, they darted from bush to bush 
like glow-worms on a summer's night, so that 
I made certain they would dodge us after all. 
My heart was low down enough, be sure of 
it, when I lost view of those guiding stars 
altogether, and found myself face to face 
with the last figure I might have asked for if 
you'd given me the choice of a hundred. 

For what should happen but that the 
weird being whom Seth Barker had called the 
"he-lion," the old fellow in petticoats, whom 
the little girls made such a fuss of, he, I say, 
appeared of a sudden right in the path before 
us, and, holding up a lantern warningly, he 
hailed us with a word which told us that he 
was our friend —the very last I would have 
named for thai in all the island. 





"Jasper Begg," cried Ik?, in a voice that 
Td have known for a Frenchman's anywhere, 
u follow Clair-de-Lune - follow — follow ! " 

He turned to the hushes behind him, and, 
seeming to dive between them, we found him 
when we followed flat on his stomach, the 
lantern out, and he running like a dog up 
a winding path before him. He was lead- 
ing us to the heights, and when I looked 
up to the great bare peaks and steeple like 
rocks, upstanding black and gloomy under 
the starry sky, I began to believe that this 
wild man was right and that in the hills our 
safety lay. 

But of that we had yet to learn, and for all 
we knew to the contrary it might have been 
a trap. 


THK Mkl/S XfclST IN THE Hi U.S. 

There had been a great sound of "halloa- 
ing tT and firing in the woods when we raced 
through them for our lives ; but it was all 


still and cold on the moun- 
tain-side, and you could hear 
even a stone falling or the 
drip of water as it oozed 
from the black rocks to the 
silent pools below. What 
light there was came down 
through the craggy gorge, 
and it was not until we had 
climbed up and up for a 
good half hour or more that 
we began to hear the sea- 
breeze whistling among the 
higher peaks like wild music 
which the spirits might have 
made. As for the path itself, 
it was oftentimes but a ledge 
against the wall of some 
sheer height, and none, I 
think, but seamen could 
have followed it, surely. 
Even I remembered where 
I was, and feared to look 
down sometimes ; but danger 
bridges many a perilous road, 
and what with the silence 
and the fresh breezes and 
the thought that we might 
live through the night, after 
all, I believe I could have 
hugged the wild old man 
who led us upward so un- 

I say that he went on un- 
flinchingly, and surely no 
goat could have climbed 
quicker than he did. Now standing over an 
abyss which made you silly to look down into ; 
now pulling himself up by bush or branch ; 
at other times scrambling over loose shale 
as though he had neither hands nor knees 
to cut, he might well have scared the 
coolest who had met him without warning 
on such a road. As for the four men he had 
saved from the fiends in the thickets below, 
I don't believe there was one of them who 
didn't trust him from the first. The sea is 
a sure school for knowing men and their 
humours. If this old Frenchman chose to 
put a petticoat about his legs, and to wear a 
lion's mane down his back, we liked him all 
the better for that What we had seen of 
the young girls* behaviour toward him made 
up for that which we did not know about 
him, He must have had a tender place some- 
where in his heart, op three young women 
wouldn't fondle him like a dog. Like a 
ship out of the night had he crossed our 
path ; and (hf-?rJJfl r || flfWffi be our port, since 




we knew no other. That's why, I say, we 
followed him over the dangerous road like 
children follow a master. He was leading 
us to some good haven— I had no doubt of 
it The thing that remained to tell was, had 
we the strength and the breath to reach it ? 

You may imagine that it was no light thing 
to run such a race as we had run, and to be 
asked to climb a mountain on ihe top of it. 
For my part, I was so dead tired that every 
step up the hill-side was like a knife in my 
side ; and as for Peter Bligh, I wonder he 
didn't go rolling down to the rocks, so hard 
did he breathe and so heavy he was. But 
men will do wonders to save their necks, and 
that is how it is that we went up and still up, 
through the black ravine, to the blue peaks 
above. Aye, a fearsome place we had come 
to now, with terrible gorges, and wild shapes 


by Google 

of rocks, like dead men's faces leering out of 
the darkness. The wind howled with a 
human voice, the desolation of all the earth 
seemed here. And yet the old man must 
push on — up, up, as though he would touch 
the very sky. 

"The Lord be good to me," cried Peter 
Bligh, at last ; "I can go no farther if it's a 
million a mile ! Oh, Mister Begg, for the 
love of Heaven, clap a rope about the wild 
man's legs." 

I pushed him on over a sloping peak of 
shale, and told him to hold his tongue. 

** Will you lie in the pool, then ? Where's 
your courage, man ? Another hundred yards 
and you shall stop to breathe. There's the 
old lion himself waiting for us, and a big bill 
of thanks he has against us, to be sure." 

I said no more, but 
climbed the steep to the 
Frenchman's side, and 
found him waiting on 
the bank of that which 
seemed to be a great 
cup-like hole, black and 
bottomless, and the last 
place you'd have picked 
for a camp on all the 
hillside. Dolly Venn was 
already there, and Seth 
Barker* lying on the 
stones and panting like a 
great dog. Old Clair de- 
Lune alone was fresh and 
ready, and able in his 
broken English to tell us 
what he wished, 

" Messieurs," he said, 
"speak not long hut go 
do w n . 1 m y s e 1 f a m ship- 
mate too. Ah, messieurs, 
you do wise to follow me. 
1 town there no dog bark. 
I show you the ladder, 
and all be well. To- 
morrow you speak your 
ship— go home. For me, 
never again — I die here 
with the children, mes- 
sieurs ; none shall come 
for old Clair - de - Lune, 
none, never at no time - but you, 
you I save for the shipmates' 

sake " 

It was odd talk, but no time to argue about 
it I s;iw a ladder thrust up out of the pit, 
and when the old man went down I followed 
without hesitation. A lantern lighted in the 
darkness showed me a hollow nest 20ft, deep, 




perhaps, and carpeted over with big brown 
leaves and rugs spread out, and in one 
comer that which was not unlike a bed. 
Moreover, there was a little stove in 
the place and upon one side an awning 
stretched against the rain, while cooking 
pots and pans and other little things made it 
plain at a glance that this was the man's own 
refuge in the mountains, and that here, at 
least, some part of his life was spent. No 
further witness to his honesty could be asked 
for. He had brought us to his own home. 
It was time to speak of thanks. 

"What youVe done for us neither me 
nor mine will ever forget," said I, warmly. 
11 Here's a seaman's hand and a seaman's 
thanks. Should the day come when we can 
do a like turn to you, be sure I'll be glad to 
hear of it ; and if it came that you had the 
mind to go aboard with us — aye, and the 
young ladies, too — why, you'll find no one 
more willing than Jasper Begg." 

We shook hands, and he set the lantern 
down upon the floor. Peter Bligh was lying 
on his back now, crying to a calendar of 
saints to help him ; Seth Barker breathed 
like a winded horse ; little Dolly Venn stood 
against the wall of the pit with his head 
upon his arm, like a runner after a race; 
the old Frenchman drew the ladder down 
and made all snug as a ship is made for the 

" No one come here," he said, " no one 
find the way. You sleep, and to-morrow you 
signal ship to go down where I show. For 
me and mine, not so. This is my home ; I 
am stranger in my own country. No one 
remember Clair-de-Lune. Twelve years I 
live here — five times I sleep the dreadful 
sleep which the island make — five times I 
live where others die. Why go home, 
messieurs, if you not have any? I not go; 
but you, you hasten because of the sleep." 

We all pricked up our ears at this curious 
saying, and Dolly Venn, he out with a 
question before I could — indeed, he spoke 
the French tongue very prettily, and for 
about five minutes the two of them went at 
it hammer and tongs like two old women at 

" What does he mean by sleep-time, lad ? 

Why shouldn't a man sleep on Ken's Island ? 
What nonsense will he talk next?" 

I'd forgotten that the old man spoke 
English too, but he turned upon me quickly 
to remind me of the fact. 

" No nonsense, monsieur, as many a one 
has found — no nonsense at all, but very 
dreadful thing. Three, four time by the 
year it come ; three, four time it go. All men 
sleep if they not go away— you sleep if you 
not go away. Ah, the good God send you to 
the ship before that day." 

He did his best to put it clearly, but he 
might as well have talked Chinese. Dolly, 
who understood his lingo, made a brave 
attempt, but did not get much farther. 

" He says that this island is called by the 
Japanese the Island of Sleep. Two or three 
times every year there comes up from the 
marshes a poisonous fog which sends you 
into a trance from which you don't recover, 
sometimes for months. It can't be true, sir, 
and yet that's what he says." 

" True or untrue, Dolly," said I, in a low 
voice, " we'll not give it the chance. It's a 
fairy tale, of course, though it doesn't sound 
very pretty when you hear it." 

" Nor is that music any more to my liking," 
exclaimed Peter Bligh, at this point, meaning 
that we should listen to a couple of gun- 
shots fired, not in the woods far down below 
us, but somewhere, as it seemed, on the sea- 
beach we had failed to make. 

" That would be Harry Doe warning us," 
cried I. 

14 And meaning that it was dangerous for 
us to go down." 

" He'll have put off and saved the long- 
boat, anyway. We'll hail him at dawn, and 
see where the ship is." 

They heard me in silence. The tempest 
roaring in the peaks above that weird, wild 
place, our knowledge of the men on the 
island below, the old Frenchman's strange 
talk — no wonder that our eyes were wide 
open and sleep far from them. Dawn, 
indeed, we waited for as those who are 
passing through the terrible night. I think 
sometimes that, if we had known what was 
in store for us, we should have prayed to 
God that we might not see the day. 

(To be continued.) 

by Google 

Original from 

Sporting and Athletic Trophies. 

By Hugh B. Philpott. 

Hti gently art of "pot-hunting" 
is held in somewhat low esteem 
among sportsmen and athletes 
of the better sort, And rightly 
so ; for nothing — except the 
spirit of gambling is so inimi- 
cal to the best interests of sport. I say 
nothing against those who openly and 
avowedly make some form of sport a means 
of livelihood ; but whenever among amateurs 
the prize is the first consideration, it is a sure 

sporting and athletic trophies is interesting 
by reason of what the trophies represent 
rather than of what they are. Here and 
there one may demand attention on account 
of its exceptional beauty, or curious form, or 
intrinsic value; but, as a rule, it is as the 
silent memorials of sporting or athletic con- 
tests that they interest us ; and obviously the 
gorgeous and glittering cup that has only just 
been presented for competition must yield in 
interest to the much hum bier looking trophy 

From, p Phata. h$ Iltnrp IntlnQ* BrtMfriltjf. 

sign that the healthiest and most vital 
elements have departed from their sport. 
The ambition, however, to possess some 
tangible object as a symbol and memento of 
a sporting victory is a perfectly legitimate 
thing, and the interest we take in these 
trophies is as healthy in its way as the 
interest in a collection of war medals or of 
tattered flags* 

Athletic trophies are 
as old as athletic con- 
tests. The victors at the 
Olympic games were re- 
warded with a garland of 
wild olive, and this was 
valued as one of the 
highest distinctions a 
man could obtain. 
Modern custom favours 
something more durable ; 
but still the id^a survives 
— and long may it re- 
main, for it is one of the 
life principles of genuine 
sport — that the prize 
should be regarded, not 
as payment for the eflort 
put forth, but as a certifi- 
cate of achievement or a 
memorial of a worthy 

Speaking generally, 


that can speak of a long succession of exciting 

The interest of antiquity belongs emphatic- 
ally to the two most famous racing trophies, 
the Newmarket Whip and the Newmarket 
Cup. Hie Whip is undoubtedly the most 
ancient sporting trophy in existence. So old 
is it that we have no record of its foundation, 
nor of its history for the 
first hundred years of 
its existence. On the 
I Kindle, however, is a 
silver plate bearing a roal- 
of-arms which has been 
identified as that of Lord 
Dacre, who was created 
Earl of Sussex in 1674. 
Probably, therefore* Lord 
Dacre was the donor of 
the Whip, and it is quite 
likely that among the 
spectators of the earliest 
contests for its posses- 
sion* would be his sacred 
and sportive Majesty, 
King Charles IL The 
first race for the whip of 
which the Racing Calen- 
dar contains any men- 
tion took place in 1764, 
when the trophy was won 
by the Duke of Cumber- 

then, a collection "W^« ^"ShwIvS^AwJ?' land's Dumpling, Shortly 





after this time the sporting world was excited 
by the doings of an extraordinary horse 
named Eclipse. Our ancestors had a pleasant, 
easy way of recording sporting events in 
round numbers, knocking off odd seconds 
and stretching seven furlongs into a mile, so 
that we are not obliged to believe —what the 
records of its performances would imply — 
that never before or since was there a 
horse that could compare with Eclipse. 
There is no doubt, however, that he 
was by far the best horse of his day, and it 
was a happy thought on the part of someone 
— very likely the Duke of Cumberland him- 
self — to perpetuate the fame of this admirable 
animal by attaching a lock of hair from his 
tail to the handle of the Newmarket Whip, 
where it remains until this day. 

Qf the origin of the Newmarket Cup a 
more precise account can be given. It was 
purchased in 1768 by subscription amongst 
members of the Jockey Club and of the 
Jockey Club Rooms at Newmarket. It is a 
handsome cup, and, apart from the interest 
of its history, would be valuable as a good 
specimen of eighteenth century silversmiths' 
work. A condition attaching to both these 
ancient trophies is that they may not leave 
this country. In each case the holder keeps 
the trophy until it is challenged for. The 
Cup has only been the occasion of eight 
races during the whole period of its exist- 
ence, but the challengers for the Whip have 
been more numerous. The Cup is at present 
held by Lord Durham and the Whip by 
Sir Ernest CasseL 

From the very old we turn to the very 
new* The West Norfolk Hunt Club's 
steeplechasing cup is an example in the 
style known as Part nouveau^ and has been 
carried out by Messrs, Mappin Brothers, 
It was presented to the Club by His Majesty 
the King in April last, and is specially 
interesting as being the first public presenta- 
tion made by His Majesty since his acces^ 

The oldest trophy that has been competed 
for year after year without intermission is to 
be found in the domain of aquatic sport. 
This is Doggett's Coat and Radge, which 
was instituted by one Thomas Doggett, an 
actor, in the year 17 16, and has been com- 
peted for every 1st of August - unless that 
day happened to he Sunday, when the race 
was held on the following day -down to the 
present time. The (t coat " is, in fact^a com- 
plete uniform of the style in vogue among 
watermen in Doggett's day, and the *' badge" 
is of silver and is w T orn on the arm ; it bears 
an impression of a wild horse — the coat of 
arms of the House of Hanover— and an 

J'PWU ft ™"' 

IvHnff. frrvniltjf. 




What, it may be asked, had an actor to do 
with watermen, or the House of Hanover 
with either? The connection is closer than 
might at first sight appear. In Doggett 's time, 
and long before, the Thames watermen were 
a very numerous and important class. The 
Thames was in those days much more 
generally used as a highway for passengers, 
and the waterman discharged most of the 
functions of the modern "cabby." A large 
portion of his business consisted in conveying 
passengers to and from the riverside theatres, 
and it is not surprising that Doggett and 
many another actor regarded the watermen, 
who brought them their 
audiences, as their very 
good friends. 

The demise of Queen 
Anne is one of the few 
events in English history 
with which everyone is 
familiar, but not every- 
one, perhaps, fully rea- 
lizes the significance of 
that event. One result 
of it was that the House 
of Hanover, in the person 
of George I., ascended 
the throne of England, 
much to the gratification 
of Thomas Doggett, who 
was a keen politician. 
To signalize the aus- 
picious event, and at the 
same time do the water- 
men a friendly turn, 
Doggett offered a sub- 
stantial prize for compe- 
tition amongst them, 
" This being the day," 
ran his proclamation, 
which was set up on 
London Bridge.on August 
ist, i 7 i 6, "of His 
Majesty's happy acces- 
sion to the Throne, there will be given 
by Mr. Doggett an orange coloured livery 
with a badge representing Liberty, to he 
rowed for by six watermen that are out of 
their time within the year past They are to 
row from London Bridge to Chelsea. It 
will be continued annually on the same day 
for ever." These conditions of the competi- 
tion are still faithfully adhered to, and the 
Fishmongers 1 Company, who have the 
management of the race, still announce it 
as " in memory of the accession of the 
family of his present Majesty to the Throne 
of Great Britain/' 


From a J'hoto. bit H'wf <* Sun, Mtnthm. 

by dOOglC 

Interesting though the race for Doggett's 
Coat and Badge is from an historical point 
of view, it excites but little public attention 
nowadays. Undoubtedly the factor which 
more than any other arouses popular interest 
in athletic contests is the presence of foreign 
competitors. Several of our great sporting 
contests have become international events, 
and where this is the case there is never any 
lack of popular interest. Thousands who 
concern themselves very little with athletic 
contests in a general way — business and pro- 
fessional men who declare they have some- 
thing more important to do than trouble 
about sports> ladies who 
don't know whether a 
mile ought to be run in 
three minutes or in ten — 
all find themselves, on 
the occasion of an inter- 
national contest, drawn 
into the vortex of popular 
excitement and fervently 
hoping for the victory 
of the Englishman, the 
English team, or the 
English boat. 

When Sir Thomas 
Upton set out on his 
gallant though unsuccess- 
ful attempt to " lift "—as 
the current phrase has it 
— the America Cup we 
all felt that he and 
Captain Sycamore and 
his gallant crew were as 
really the representatives 
of England — though in 
quite a friendly and sport- 
ing sense — as if they had 
been an army going to 
fight our battles. And 
whatever the degree of 
our ignorance about 
yachting matters, we did 
not fail to scan eagerly the long cablegrams 
reporting all the details of the famous struggle. 
Never, it may safely be said, in the whole 
history of sport has such widespread 
interest been taken in a sporting contest. 
Everybody felt a personal interest in the 
result, from His Majesty the King, who 
visited the Shamrock before she left these 
shores, down to the little Board school boy 
who wrote the following essay on the race : 
"Sir Thomas Lipton who has a shop in 
Angel Lane and another at Forest Gate is 
going to tpy.and .win the cup with his yot, 
it is Lallecr'fflP^SWS^tfrf, and is painted 



green. If Sir Thomas Lipton wins I shall 
ask mother to buy her grocery ofT him all 
except jam," 

But apart from the international aspect of 
the affair there were in truth many, other 
features about this race well calculated to 

From a Photo. 

strike the imagination and rouse sympathetic 
interest It was exactly fifty years since the 
cup, first given by an English yachting club, 
had been carried across the Atlantic by the 
yacht America y and all attempts to win it back 
had hitherto failed. The competing yachts 
were beyond question the finest examples 
of scientific yacht building the world had 
seen* The contestants were prepared, in Sir 
Thomas Lipton's phrase, " to shovel on 
the ^"5 notes " if, by so doing, they 
could add ever so little to the speed of their 
crafts. It has been calculated that the 
attempt to win this ^100 silver cup has cost 
Sir Thomas Lipton ^ioo,ooo, and that the 
Americans have had to expend ;£ 150,000 in 

V11]. xxtii.— 6 

order to retain it. It was, in truth, a case of 
Greek meeting Greek. Another thing which 
aroused popular sympathy was the friendly 
and sportsmanlike spirit which prevailed, in 
happy contrast with the wretched bickerings 
that marred a former contest for the cup* 
The attitude of Sir Thomas Lipton through- 
out the whole of the contest was in accord 
with his first letter of challenge sent in 1899, 
in which he wrote : " I have too high an 
opinion of our American cousins to seek to 
make any terms ; what they may propose I 
shall accept as generous measure of our 
rights." It is pleasant to know that this 
friendly spirit was fully reciprocated by the 
other side. What wonder, then, that the two 
great sport-loving nations of the world 
watched the great struggle with sympathetic 
and admiring eyes? Another specially in- 
teresting yachting trophy is the cup which 
was presented by the German Emperor to 
commemorate the Diamond Jubilee of Queen 




Victoria. The cup was designed by the 
Emperor himself. 

The international element also appeared 
last year in the contest for the Grand 
Challenge Cup, the principal race at Henley 
Regatta. There are those who hold that the 
presence of foreign crews at Henley is to be 
deprecated, as tending to alter the character 
which Henley has so long held as the 
favourite meeting- place for British rowing 
men and a delightful social function into the 
bargain. Our crews, it is said, will have to 
train more seriously and to devote their whole 
attention to one race in order to hold their 
own against the best foreign crews. In short, 

length, thus retaining the tine challenge cup 
which they have won several limes before. 

There was quite an invasion ot American 
athletes last summer, and if they had been 
successful in ali the contests in which they 
took part the number of notable trophies 
remaining in this country would have been 
considerably reduced* Not only at Henley 
Regatta, but at the Tennis Championship 
meetings at Wimbledon and at the Amateur 
Athletic Association Championships at 
Hudderslield our American cousins were 
very much to the fore, At the last-named 
meeting they carried off the challenge cups 
for the ioo yards, the 120 yards hurdles, and 

From « Phttto* bffl 


[Mtmrt* ElkwQtvTi., 

they will have to make more of a business of 
what has hitherto been a pleasant recreation. 
Others hold that it is more sportsmanlike to 
welcome competition from any quarter, and 
look to the presence of foreign crews to raise 
the standard of British oarsmanship. Which- 
ever of these views be the more reasonable, 
there can be no doubt that the great event 
of last year's Henley Regatta was the exciting 
struggle in the final fur the Grand Challenge 
Cup between our premier rowing club, 
Leander, and the crew from Pennsylvania 
University. After a keenly contested struggle, 
which aroused immense interest among the 
large crowd of spectators, many of whom 
were Americans, Leander won by a good 

Digitized by Ci 

the high jump> with the championship title 
for those events. In the pole jump the 
American representative, J. K. Baxter, tied 
with his opponent, and would probably have 
won outright had he not omiited to provide 
himself with a jumping - pole. As the 
English champion, in a very churlish and 
unsportsmanlike spirit, declined to lend his 
pole, Baxter had to improvise one from a 
flag-pole on the ground. In the quarter-mile 
the American champion was defeated, and in 
the longer distances the Americans did not 
even challenge our men. In the race for the 
mile championship— won by F. G. Cockshott, 
of Cambridge University — it is interesting 
to note that a Frenchman finished third. 




In the lawn - tenuis 
world the American visi- 
tors, Messrs. J. 1), Davis 
and H. Ward, made a 
bold bid for the churrv 
pionship cups. They 
succeeded in defeating 
all their opponents until 
they came to the final 
run nd r when they were 
ma tc h ed against the 
English champion pair, 
Messrs. R, F, Doherty 
and H, L, Doherty, The 
game was keenly con* 
tested, and some fine 
play was seen on both 
sides ; but in the end the 
Englishmen won by three 
sets to one, and the 
names of the brothers 
Doherty were engraved 
for the fifth year in suc- 
cession on the doubles 
championship cup. 

The net result, then, 
of the American invasion, 
so far as the sports of the 
past year are concerned, 
is that the Yankees have 
beaten us in yachting. 


ffjrni a Photo, by (f. Fox, Hmlderfjkid. 

pionship cups followed 
across the Atlantic by a 
procession of our most 
highly-cherished troph ies. 
Apart from those events 
which have an interna- 
tional character, there is 
no doubt that the most 
interesting event of the 
year to the majority of 
the sport-loving public is 
the final match fur the 
English Association Toot- 
ball Cup + last season 
the excitement attending 
this contest was greater 
than it has ever been 
before ; indeed, it may 
be doubted whether any 
sporting contest, except 
the race for the America 
Cup, has ever in this 
country caused so much 
interest, The fact that 
the first match resulted 
in a draw and had to 
be re-played tended to 
enhance the excitement, 
and for Londoners there 
was a special element of 
interest in the specula- 

sprinting, and jumping, but we have held our tion whether the cup would or would not, 
own in long distance running, in rowing, and after its long wandering in the North, return 
and in lawn-tennis, 

though not until we 
had full en back on 
our last lines of de- 
fence — to wit, the 
Leander Club and 
the Brothers 
Doherty. These are 
not results which 
make for national 
complacency, for, 
although we may 
fairly pride ourselves 
still on being the 
premier athletic 
people of the world, 
recent events have 
shown that our 
sportsmen and ath- 
letes will have their 
work cut out during 
the next few years if 
we are not to see 
the America Cup 
and the sprinting 
and jumping cham- 

to the Metropolis. 
The victory of the 
Tottenham Hotspurs 
settled that question, 
for a year at any 
rate, to the complete 
satisfaction of Metro- 
politan football de 

There is another 
football trophy that 
deserves a place in 
our collection, be- 
cause it was given, 
and is annually com- 
peted for, in the 
sacred cause of 
charity* The Dewar 
Shield, as it is called, 
was presented by 
Mr, T. R, Dewar, 
M.P., as a perpetual 
trophy to be com- 
peted for by amateur 
and professional 

q i n a I frriSfP 8 l>al l ,ca m s ? ^ 






/^tn a Photo. 

proceeds of the matches to be 
devoted entirely to charities. The 
matches are played at the Crystal 
Palace, and Metropolitan charities 
receive the greatest benefit from 
them, but a certain portion of the 
proceeds is given to hospitals, etc*, 
in the district from which the visiting 
team comes. 

While public interest in football 
has been decidedly increasing of late 

<£s croLr> 

- St, s 

- — -^ - - 1 

9* WfA'L 


V J t,Z^ 

cycmivi; 1:11 a 'II '■tttN^nTi" MEnAT,— tup. 

' r.i ri- n\v. v 

or the cyci.ikc; tracks 

years, the interest in cycle races has quite as 
decidedly been decreasing. One reason for tins 
is the practice, which has become prevalent, of 
refusing to take the lead, so that races have 
often degenerated into a leisurely procession with 
a desperate spurt at the end. There is still, 
however, some good sport to be seen on the 
cycle-track, and there is no lack of trophies to 
be competed for. The highest honour obtainable 
in amateur cycling is the possession of one of 
the National Cyclists' Union's championship 
medals. The mile championship, held this jear 
by C. Pease, of Dublin, is generally regarded as 
the lt blue riband " of the cycling track. 

Of the more elaborate trophies none is more 


* rzm 




J>Yqtyi a Fhafo. ftv H. W r Thomas. 

interesting than the Dibble Shield, formerly 
known as the Anchor Shield, which perpetuates 
the name of a very good friend of thousands 
of cyclists, the late Mrs. Dibble, of the 
picturesque old Anchor Inn at Ripley. Mrs. 
Dibble gave the shield in 1S86 for competi- 
tion at the Southern Cyclists' Camp. When 
the Camp ceased to be held the shield was 
returned, after the donor*s death, to the Misses 
Dibble, by whom it was presented to the 
London County Club, and it is now held as 
a challenge trophy by the winner of the twelve 
hours 7 path race held annually at Heme Hill, 

One sometimes wonders, in looking at a 
collection of_. .-Sporting trophies, that the 
designers haw l 9H&WrT9^" 1 little inventiveness 



and resource in giving them a distinctive 
character. 'The same stereotyped forms re- 
appear again and again, and often there is 
little to suggest the nature of the sport for 
which the trophy is awarded. Such a 
criticism certainly cannot be urged against 
the Wingfield Scully the trophy that carries 

was one of the keenest ever seen on the 
Thames ; so desperate were the efforts put 
forth by each of the competitors that they 
both stopped, completely rowed out, some fifty 
yards from the winning-post, and the boats 
simply drifted over the line, Howell managed 
to get in one last stroke which gave him the 

Prom a Phuto. bv] 

THE VVCMfjriEIrD SCULLS — amateur sclmxtng CHAM I'tON ship. 

[If. F 1/uni. U'i*4wr. 

with it the title of Amateur Sculling Cham- 
pion of the Thames, This trophy takes the 
very appropriate form of a pair of silver 
sculls, about gin, long, placed in a box 
adorned with silver plates on which the 
names of the winners are engraved. These 
names include those 
of most of the greatest 
amateur scullers of 
the past seventy years, 
and to be numbered 
amongst them is an 
honour indeed. 
There is also a smaller 
pair of crossed sculls 
fastened with a laurel 
wreath and a clasp, 
on which the word 
"champion" is en- 

The trophy is 
held this year by 
that fine oarsman, 

H. T. Blackstaffe, who won it with the 
greatest ease hy twelve lengths. A very 
different sort of race was the fierce struggle 
for the Wingfields in t3yS p when Blackstaffe 
was just beaten by B. H- H;Qwt^lj^^J»ce 

From a Photo, bit (J. W. 

victory* Both men were lifted out of their 
boats thoroughly exhausted* 

Some of the most interesting of trophies 
are those awarded in the College boat-races 
at Oxford and t'anihridge, True to that 
genuine amateur spirit of which the great. 

Universities have al- 
ways been the fore- 
most exponents^ the 
spirit which "counts 
the game above the 
prize/' i he custom 
begun in some re- 
mote past (no one 
quite knows how long 
ago) of awarding pew- 
ter pots as prizes has 
been continued down 
to the present day. 
Every mem her of the 
winning crew gets a 
pot, which, of course, 
is of very little in- 
trinsic value, and he has to get it engraved 
at his own expense. 

The most noteworthy point about the 
trophies of the Amateur Swimming Associa- 
tion is thaO[ibii|dlfmpi>rtion of them are 


,4 uifen, Hiykburp. 



A.&A. 500 YAHD& SiV'lMMlKU L'K A M 1'IONSH N 1 ijV 


Front a rhvto by ,'.■■_■■. . •■ lit 


held, and have 
been for several 
years, by one 
great swimmer, J, 
A + Jar vis* A few 
years ago J- H. 
Tyers was enjoy- 
ing a similar run 
of almost uniform 
success. The 500 
yards champion- 
ship cup, which 
we illustrate, is 
notable from die 
fact thai it was in 
this race that the 
spell of Tyers's 
invincibility was 
broken by J, H, 
Derbyshire. This 
cup was presented 
to the Amateur 
Swimming Asso- 
ciation in 1896 
by the secretary 
of the Associa- 
tion, Mr. George 
Pragnell. All the 
prizes of the A>S.A + , it is worthy of note, 

are perpetual trophies, the Association holding that 

it is contrary to the true amateur spirit for 

of great intrinsic value 

to be won outright 
Quite unique in 

character is 

the fine 

trophy pre- 
sented by Sir 


Hanson for 

''athletic pre- 

e minence/ 

The cup is 

competed for 

b y c lubs 

affiliated with 

the City of 

L o n d o ti 

Athletic and 

S w i m ni t n g 


which prac- 
tically means 

all the clubs 

connected with the 

great business houses 

in the City. The 

li pre - eminence "' is national i'jivsicat. recheatcon ^icfkiVs 


Ueterm 1 ned by a series fr - r</m fl PhaiQt 

a trophy 

by Google 


Frvima Photo, fry If, W, Stoma*, Utwaptid*. 

inier-club contests 
crieket, football, 
swim mingj 
athletics, and 
tennis* The 
first team in 
each class of 
sport scores 
one point, 
the second 
two, and so 
on. Obvi- 
ously, there- 
fore t the club 
with the low- 
est total, tak- 
ing all the 
together, is 
the best all- 
round club. 
This distinction has 
belonged for the past 
three years to the 
f*»k Ravcnsbourne (Hub, 
which is connected 

Original fr 



Fn>m a Photo. h]f A. \\\ Witmm e£ f 'u t Stoke Ximnfftofk. 

with the great house of Cook, Son, and Co,, 
in St Pauls Churchyard. 

In the gymnastic: world the chief prize is 
a large silver shield valued at 200 guineas, 
which is presented by 
the National Physical 
Recreation Society. 
The shield is com- 
peted for by teams of 
eight gymnasts, and 
the competitions are 
so arranged that each 
member of the team 
must exhibit a high 
degree of all-round 

There are no better 
sportsmen than the 
hoys in our public 
schools, and there is 
no pleasa nter sight to 
those who value and 
would perpetuate the 
best elements in our 
Bntish sports than 
(say) the Stamford 
Bridge ground when 
one of the schools has 
taken possession of it 

for its annual sports, or a public swimming 
bath when the London Schools Swimming 
Association is 
holding a com- 

The associa- 
tion just named 
does an admir- 
able work in 
encouragi rig 
swimming and 
life-saving drill 
in elementary 
schools, and its 
trophies de- 
serve notice, if 
for no other 
reason, on ac- 
count of their 
genuine artistic 
merit. The 
shield pre- 
sented by the 
proprietors of 
the Da ily 
Chronicle^ and 
awarded to the 
school which 
shows the great- 
est success in 
the teaching of 
swimming, was 

designed by Mr, Walter Crane, The Ash bee 
Cup, awarded to the best boy- swimmer under 

fifteen, and the Fabian 
Shield, awarded to the 
team of boys which 
shows the greatest pro- 
ficiency in life-saving 
drill, have both been 
designed by Mr. C. R« 
Ashbee, and are 
admirable examples 
of what athletic tro- 
phies should be. 
Artistically l hey are 
immeasurably supe- 
rior to many of the 
more costly and pre- 
tentious trophies. 

Beauty and appro- 
priateness, rather than 
a high intrinsic value, 
are the qualities to be 
sought in an athletic 
trophy, whether it be 
for a schoolboy or for 
. ihe greatest athlete 

THE FABIAN SH1E-UJ Ki>K l,[Kh-S.\V[NG DRILL IN ^f$^$\"\ I TfO tfl^ wnrlrl 
EWriH a PhAtii ftw A W WiLbwH. > fTn _ Statu .Vnainntam Ul UJL ftUllU* 

HWIMMLK ltM>|£lt 15, 

From a Fh&tt*. by A, W, H'ifcm tt Qo+, 
Moke +\en:intitari. 

From a Flwto. &p A. W< WiUvn it €o, 


Jtg^lD) 1 : 

By Robert Bafr. 

O fit st train stopped at Stump- 
ville, so Tom Pen ton changed 
cars at Tenstrike City and took 
the slow local which followed 
the express* When at last he 
reached Stumpville he stood 
on the planks which formed the railway plat- 
form and looked about him with a sinking of 
the heart. Here was a come-down for a 
young man who had been telegraph operator 
in a large city, holding one of the best 
positions in a numerous company of light- 
fingered gentlemen manipulating the elec- 
tric keys. Stumpville presented an unat- 
tractive appearance. The chief building, some 
distance from the depot, was an un painted two- 
story board structure whose signboard bore 
the high-sounding title, "The Star of Empire 
Hotel/' which had evidently taken its way 
this far westward. To the left of the tavern 
stood a big saw-mill, whose sides were open to 
the winds of heaven and whose roof was 
composed of sawn slabs with the bark on. 
Up from this roof rose a tall iron smoke- 
stack. All down the side-track leading from 
the single line of railway to the mill huge 
square piles of sweet smelling lumber had 
been built, and several flat cars were being 
laden with the boards. From the mill itself 
came the ripping roar of a great circular saw 
tearing its way through a log, and this deep 
bass note was accompanied by the shriller 

scream of a vicious little edging-saw trimming 
the planks. Grouped around mill and hotel 
lay a rude assemblage of shanties, each shanty 
seemingly made from the refuse of the saw- 
mill: shaky, knot-filled boards and shaggy 
slabs with the bark on. 

To the east the flat lands had been 
denuded of pine timber, and hideous stumps 
showed where the trees had stood* To the 
west the primeval forest still seemed intact, 
except where the railway made a bee-line 
through it, straight as an arrow's flight, 
extending so far that the trees seemed to 
come together as young shrubs at the distant 
end. Down this level canyon with its dark 
green sides of tall limber the despised local 
was rapidly lessening, and its departure gave 
Tom a sudden pang of loneliness which he 
would not have believed possible when he 
boarded the train two hours before in bustl- 
ing Tenstrike City* "Call you this backing 
of your friends ? A plague on such backing ! " 
said Falstaff to Prince Hal, and, reversing 
the Shakespearean saying, so thought Tom 
Fen ton. He had backed his friends, 
and Stumpville was the result Practi- 
cally all telegraphic America had gone 
out on strike. The young man had 
never believed in the possibility of sue 
cess, but when his comrades quitted their 
work he quitted .with .them. He was the last 
to go out and was the last in at tempting a 





return. His employers, illogical enough, 
resented his action more than they did that of 
the loud-mouthed demagogues who had led 
the telegraphers into a hopeless contest. Tom 
found his place taken and himself out of 
employment. The friends he had backed 
found their situations again — he had the 
privilege of looking for a new one. Rail- 
roading and telegraphing were the only things 
he knew, and the fact that he had been one 
of the army of strikers proved less efficient as 
a recommendation than a line or two written 
by a train-dispatcher who had last given 
him employment. The line or two from the 
train-dispatcher he did not possess ; the fact 
that he had been one of the strikers he could 
not deny ; so it was five months before he was 
offered the mean situation of operator at 
Stumpville, on the newly-opened branch of 
the C K. & G. His resources were at an 
end, and he had been very glad to accept the 
position tendered him ; but now, face to face 
with the reality, he could not help contrasting 
it with the berth he had lost. However, he 
possessed the grit typical of the young 
American, and with one final sigh for oppor- 
tunity forfeited, he set his teeth with deter- 
mination and resolved to do the best 
he could at the foot of the ladder once 

The station-master, who seemed to be 
switchman, yardman, and everything else, had 
kicked a clutch out from the iron-toothed 
wheel to the west of the platform, which 
caused a momentary rattle of chains and the 
uplifting of the red arm of a signal behind 
the departing train. He now approached the 
lone passenger with a friendly expression of 
inquiry on his face. 

44 My name is Fenton," said the young 
man, before the other had time to address 
him. u I'm the new operator." 

44 All right," growled the station-master. 
44 My name's Sam Sloan, and I do pretty 
much everything that's required round this 
shanty except telegraphing. Jim Mason has 
been working the keys here this while back, 
and I guess he'll be mighty glad to slope. 
He says he's been expecting you these last two 
or three days. He's got a raise, has Jim, 
and he's going to Tenstrike City. He says 
he's had enough of the excitement of Stump- 
ville to last him all his life, and I think he's 
just yearning to give us the shake." 

44 1 don't blame him," said Fenton, with a 
momentary lack of diplomacy. The station- 
master shrugged his shoulders, laughing 
good-naturedly, and his reply had a touch 
of that optimism with which every citizen 

VoL xxiii.— 0. 

regards his ovyn town no matter how back- 
ward it may appear to a stranger's eye. 

44 Oh, well, I guess there's worse outfits 
than Stumpville. Two years ago there wasn't 
a house in the place, and last week they 
staked out a planing-mill, and they're talking 
of puttin' up a new hotel." 

44 You are going ahead," commented Tom. 

44 You bet your life," said Sam Sloan, 
complacently. 44 Come on in and I'll in- 
troduce you to Jim, then you can take over 
the ticker." 

Jim departed, joyously, on the returning 
local that evening, and Tom found himself 
master of a plasterless room of pine-boards 
with a little window projecting out over the 
platform, which gave him a view up and 
down the line when he stood. within it. The 
telegraph instrument was on a bench near 
this window, and there was one wooden 
chair beside it. The door opening from the 
waiting-room was ornamented by a big card 
labelled, 44 No Admittance," to which injunc- 
tion no one in the locality paid the slightest 
heed. Against the wall was a ticket-case, 
the product of some city cabinet shop, whose 
polished walnut was in striking contrast to 
the rough pine that surrounded it. Between 
the telegraph office and the waiting-room 
was cut, breast high, a rounded opening 
which had a little shelf at the bottom, and 
through this aperture it was part of Tom's 
duty to sell tickets to any inquirer twice a 
day : in the morning when the local went 
west and in the evening when it returned 

Fenton took over Jim's abandoned room 
in The Star of Empire Hotel, and found the 
fare in that place of entertainment not nearly 
so bad as he had expected. The pumpkin- 
pie was particularly good and the dough- 
nuts a lesson to Delmonico's. 

Tom settled down to his work, and he soon 
found that the task required of him was any- 
thing but a severe one. Stumpvilte was an 
unimportant station, and the amount of tele- 
graphing to be done there at any time was 
not extensive, so a man was more apt to die 
of ennui than overwork at that post Luckily 
he had brought some books with him, and 
by-and-by made an arrangement with the 
conductor of the local whereby he received a 
morning paper each day, and this sheet kept 
him from imagining that all the world was 
standing still just because he was. 

Sam, the man-of-all-work of the station, 
was a good-natured employ^, who spent 
most of his time at the bar-room of the Star, 
except when the locals came or there were 


um 1 



some cars of lumber to be attached to an 
eastern-bound freight. Tom always knew 
where to find him in case of emergency, but 
emergencies never happened. 

As the bar-room had no attractions for 
Tom he got more and more into the habit 
of spending nearly all his time in the tele- 
graph office, coming there even on Sundays 
when there was nothing to do; liking the 
place for its quietness and freedom from 
interruption. Now and then he gave himself 
some quiet amusement and a little practice 
in his own line of business by sending 
messages along the line at the rate of speed 
to which he had 
formerly been accus- 
tomed. On these 
occasions he was 
pleased to find there 
was not a man on 
the branch who 
could take his mes- 
sages. He was de- 
lighted once, when 
answering an in- 
quiry from the train- 
dispatcher's office at 
Tenstrike, to find 
that even the city 
operator had to 
break in on him 
three times during 
his discourse and 
beg him to go 
slower. On the 
third interruption 
Tom surmised that 
the train - dispatcher himself 
took off the message, because 
he got a curt command to 
44 Go ahead," which he did, 
and there was no further 
appeal for a_ more moderate 
pace until he had finished 
what he had to say. After a 
pause there came to him a 
message almost as fast as 
che one he had sent in* 

"Say, young fellow, are you qualifying as 
the demon operator of this line? You must 
remember you are only a branch, and although 
we have some express trains going over the 
rails you have all the time there is during the 
rest of the day. Don't throw us into a fever 
so far away from a doctor." 

"Thanks, 11 replied Tom, over the wires. 
M I am glad to know there is at least one man 
in Tenstrike who knows how to handle a 

by Google 

Fen to n Mas pleased with this incident. 
11 There," he said to himself, "they'll know 
at head-quarters where to get a good operator 
if they want one, and in order to keep my 
hand in, I think I'll wake up my next-door 
neighbour," So he began rattling on the 
machine the letters " Cy— Cy," which was 
the call for Corderoy, seventeen miles 
farther west, and presumably still deeper in 
the woods than Stumpville, When the 
call was answered he poured forth a stream 
of chattering letters calculated to make the 
hair of the other operator stand on end. In 
a moment or two there came the expected 
break : — 

il I haven't the remotest 
idea what you are talking 
about," remarked the be- 
wildered operator at Cor- 
deroy ; M but if it's anything 
important, I beg you to 
telegraph slowly," 

"All right," replied Fen- 
ton, "that was 
merely my fancy 
speed. I practise 
it now and then so 
that people along 
the line won't fall 
into the idea that 
Stumpville is a slow 
place* J was 
merely sending 
along my compli- 
ments and asking 
you what sort of a 
settlement Cor- 
deroy is." 

" Oh, you're the 
new man at Stump- 
ville, are you ? I 
heard there was 
going to be a 
change. How do 
you like it ? " 

u Not very well ; 

still, it isn't as bad 

as it looked when 

I came here the other day. How about 

Corderoy ? Have you a saw-mill there or 

any modern improvements?" 

" No, we are just a little neck of the woods. 
Four or five shanties and a blacksmith shop 
for the lumbermen/' 

u What, haven't you even a tavern ? " 
" No." 

u Oh, we're away ahead of you. I'm 
boarding at The Star of Empire Hotel 
Where do ySBfltiD^from 





"In one of the shanties, of course. Did 
you think I camped out ? " 

11 1 didn't know. That's why I asked." 

After a few moments' pause Corderoy 
inquired : — 

" Was that real telegraphing you were 
doing a moment ago, or were you only trying 
to shatter the instrument ? " 

" Couldn't you tell it was real ? " 

" No. You frightened the life out of me. 
I thought there was a disaster of some kind 
impending, or that the lightning had struck 
the wires." 

"Well, Corderoy, you are farther in the 
woods than I thought. Listen to this. I'll 
repeat it again and again and see if you can 
make head or tail of it." 

The key flew up and down for a few 
seconds, then paused. 

" How's that, umpire ? " he said. 

" I couldn't make you out. You were 
saying what " 

" I was asking, what's your name ? Give 
me an introduction." 

" Jack Moran. What's yours ? " 

" Tom Fenton." 

" Well, Tom Fenton, how is it that so 
good an operator is cooped up in a place like 
Stumpville? Drink?" 

44 No ; strike. I went out on that strike 
six months ago and didn't get in again ; 
that's all." 

" Let me condole with you. Had you a 
good situation before ? " 

" First-rate, but didn't know enough to 
hang on to it" 

** How old are you ? " 

11 Twenty-three. How old are you ? " 

"Oh, if you're only twenty-three, then 
the world's before you. I shouldn't get dis- 
couraged if I were you." 

" I'm not. I've just been shaking up the 
train - dispatcher's office, and they broke in 
on me three times." 

" Good. You'll make those people in the 
city have some respect for this backwoods 

"That was my intention. But you haven't 
answered my question, which was — how old 
are you ? " 

" Me ? Oh, I'm only seventeen." 

"Good gracious! Do they put a kid 
like you in such an important position as 
Corderoy ? " 

u Now you are sneering, Mr. Thomas. 
Corderoy, of course, is only a kind of section- 
house, with a long switch where we side- 
track freight trains. There isn't much doing 

Digitized by ^OOQ It 

" How do you pass your time ? " 

" Oh, just grin and bear it, that's all." 

11 Say, I can send you along some books if 
you would like to read, and I can give you a 
newspaper the day after." 

" Thanks. I'll be very much obliged." 

" I say, Jack, seeing you're a youngster, 
will you take some good advice ? " 

" Send it along, and if I don't like it I'll 
return it." 

" All right. You ought to brush up your 
telegraphing a little. You are pretty slow, 
you know." 

11 Yes, I know I am. Will you send over 
the wire something at a good speed now and 
then, so that I may practise ? " 

" I shall be delighted. You see, now's 
your time to pitch in and learn ; then, when 
you "get the offer of a better situation, you are 
ready for it." 

" Thank you ever so much." 

This ended their first conversation, for a 
freight train came in, but they had many 
another. Tom grew to be very fond of his 
western neighbour, who seemed so anxious 
to learn. There was a downy innocence 
about the youth that pleased the elder 
man, and under instruction the boy be- 
came a creditable operator. Fenton invited 
Jack to come and have dinner with him 
some day when he could get away, but the 
westerner never seemed able to quit his post, 
for, of course, there was no one who could act 
as substitute. Fenton sent him books and 
the newspaper, which were gratefully received, 
and told him story after story of the town 
and all its fascinations. " I must brighten 
up the kid's intellect," he said to himself; 
and indeed the kid proved an apt pupil. He 
had an alert sense of humour and keenly 
appreciated the good things that were sent 
over the wire to him. This companionship 
between two persons who had never seen 
each other made a dull life more interesting 
for both of them, and Tom saw with pleasure 
that Jack's telegraphic style was improving 
greatly by the practice he was getting. 

One Sunday, however, an unexpected 
incident occurred which, as the novelists say, 
chariged the tenor of Tom Fenton's life for 
him. Sunday was a drowsy, lazy day in 
Stumpville, with nothing going on, and Tom 
was spending it as usual in his telegraph- 
room, seated on the wooden chair tilted back 
against the wall, with his feet elevated to the 
bench on which the silent instrument rested. 
A text-book on electricity had been thrown 
aside, and Tom was absorbed in a ten-cent 
novel. The door, slightly ajar, was quietly 




pushed open, and the young man, glancing 
up, was amazed to see standing in the vacancy 
a strikingly handsome young woman, dressed 
m the dainty fashion that betokened the 

M I beg your pardon," she said, hesitat- 

Tom's feet came down to the floor with a 
crash, and he arose in some confusion. 


11 1 wanted to know," she continued, u when 
there is a train for Tenstrike ? " 

" For Tenstrike ? Bless my soul, there's 
no train until to-morrow evening!" 

The girl made what seemed to be a 
gesture of despair. 

"Till to-morrow evening," she echoed* 
li Is there no wav of getting to the citv kioiv 
then ? » 

"Not unless you walk along the track/ 1 
said Tom. 

u Aren't there any freight trains that would 
take a passenger who w;is in a hurry ?" 

The young man shook his head. 

"Sunday's a day off on the branch," he 
explained. " We have rarely any Sunday 
freights except in the autumn when the wheat 
is moving." 

The young lady was evidently troubled at 
this lack of enterprise on the part of the 
branch, and her smooth brow wrinkled in 
perplexity. *' If I walked down the line to 
Ross," she said at last, " could I get a train 

there ? Ross is the next point east, is it 
not ? » 

" Yes, but you would be no better off 

there. There is nothing from Ross going 
east which you could take before to-morrow 
evening. So you see there is no help for it 

but to wait where you are. Miss - hk 

He hesitated at the word "Miss,"and looked 
up inquiringly with a semi-smile hovering 

about the 
corners of his 
lips* The girl 
blushed very 
prettily, then 
said :— 

"Miss De 
Forest is my 

"A good 
name for this 
locality," re 
joined Tom, 

"Oh, but I 
don't live in 
this locality," 
replied the 
girl, drawing 
herself up with 
some touch of 
scorn in her 
tone for the 
hood, which 
her auditor so 
with that he did not resent it 

14 1 knew you didn't," he answered, 
hastily* u Will you come in and sit down, 
Miss De Forest ? J ' and seeing she was in 
some doubt about accepting the invitation, 
he continued : " If you knew how lonesome 
it was for a person to live here* who sees 
nobody he cares to speak to from one 
week's end to another, you would have 
compassion, and, by the way, my name is 
Fenton. I shall be glad if you will consider 
us formally introduced." 

The girl smiled, made no objection, and 
took the chair he offered her. 

" Are you the station-master here ? " she 

"Oh, occasionally. Fm telegraph oper- 
ator always ; ticket seller when anyone wants 
to buy ; signalman and switch-tender in an 
emergency ; and general Pooh-Bah of the 

she ventured* 
e situation 



sometimes fills ine with despair, Miss De 
Forest. I dare not leave this machine for 
fear something important might come over 
the wire, and yet nothing important ever does 
come. I see no one but a lot of ignorant 
freight-train brakemen and the conductor of 
the local twice a day. Then society is varied 
by communion with the mill-hands at meal- 
times. It seems rather hopeless to a man 
who has been accustomed to the bustle and 
importance of a city office. If it wasn't for 
Jack Moran I don't know what I would do." 

" Oh ! Who is Jack Moran ? " 

" He is the operator at the next station 
farther west. He is only a boy, but an awful 
nice fellow, and I've kind of taken him 
under my wing, teaching him rapid tele- 
graphy. He is getting on splendidly, and 
will be one of the best operators on the line 
before long." 

u Always excepting yourself, I suppose ? " 
said Miss De Forest, looking up archly at 
him as he sat on the telegraph-table, swinging 
his foot to and fro, gazing down with much 
interest at her. 

" Yes, always excepting myself," replied 
Tom, with honest confidence. " If I ever 
get again into as good a position as I held 
before I'm going to have Jack as my 

" Perhaps that is why he is so industrious," 
said the young woman. 

" Oh, no, there's nothing self-seeking about 
Jack. Besides, he has no notion of my 
intention. I am not going to put ideas into 
the youngster's head that I may not be able 
to fulfil." 

" He is a lucky boy," said the girl, mus- 
ingly, " to have such a good friend and never 
suspect it What sort of a looking fellow is 

" I have never seen him." 

"Then how did you two get acquainted?" 

" Oh, over the wires. We chatter to each 
other when the line isn't working on official 
business, which is most of the time." 

Tom's visitor proved deeply interested in 
telegraphing, and he explained the workings 
of the instrument, the grounding of wires, 
the care of batteries, and other electrical 
particulars. Never had teaching been such 
an absorbing, fascinating pursuit before. At 
last the girl jumped up in a panic. 

" I must be going," she said. 

Fenton looked at his watch and saw how 
time had fled. 

"I'll tell you what you must do. Miss 
De Forest," he said ; " you're coming with me 
to the hotel for dinner." 

Digitized by dOOgle 

" Oh no, no, no," cried the girl, visibly 
terrified by the proposal. 

"Why, yes, you are. It's all right. It 
looks rough on the outside, but I tell you 
the cook's pie is worth coming to Stumpville 
to get a slice of. I'm afraid our dried 
pumpkin is all gone and the fresh fruit 
hasn't come into season yet, but we are 
promised to-day a strawberry shortcake that 
will be a dream of delight. You must 

" I really couldn't think of it. I have no 
desire to meet your employes of the saw- 

"That's so," said Tom, taken aback. 
"Still, though they're rough chaps, they're 
a good lot. I'll tell you what we'll do. You 
stay here and I'll go over to the hotel and 
bring a meal for us both, and we'll enjoy it 
here in comfort and alone." 

The girl was about to protest when he con- 
tinued, impetuously enamoured of his new 
scheme : — 

"You see, the folks with whom you are 
staying think you are gone ; in fact, I am 
amazed that there is anyone in Stumpville 
who doesn't know there are no trains from 
here on Sunday. Where are you staying, by 
the way ? " 

Either this question or the proposal to 
lunch together had so perturbed Miss de 
Forest that she answered hastily, and rather 
inconsequently : — 

" But what if someone should come here 
when you were gone ? " 

" Oh, there is no danger of that," cried 
Tpm. " No one ever comes here." 

" You are sure it won't be too much 
trouble?" she asked, breathlessly. 

"Trouble? No trouble at all— a delight. 
Then that's settled," he added, hurriedly, 
fearing she might change her mind. " What 
will you drink, tea or milk ? " 

" Milk, if you please." 

Next instant he was gone. The young 
woman moved quickly to the window and 
looked up and down the track with alarm 
in her eyes as if she contemplated flight. 
Then she went to the door, but stopped on 
the threshold ; with some effort recovered her 
composure and sat down again. 

Presently the amateur waiter came in 
jubilantly with a broad tray carrying all the 
components of a substantial meal. They had 
a jolly lunch together, and at the end of it she 
rose and said that now she must surely go. 

" Well, if you must, you must," he mur- 
mured, with a sigh. " I'll walk down town 

with y° u ' ifI :.iWialfrom 




She stood opposite him and held out her 
hand, with an appealing look in her liquid 
black eyes. 

" I wish you wouldn't," she pleaded. " You 
have been very kind to a stranger, so please 
do not embarrass me by coming with me. 
I'd much rather you wouldn't." 

He was holding her hand and said, with a 
trace of disappointment in his tone : — 

Si I shall do exactly what you wish, but I 
will see you to- 
morrow when you 
go east on the 

" You will see 
me when I go east 
on the local," she 
repeated after 

"Won't you give 
me your address?' 1 
he pleaded, 

"I'll give it to 
you to - morrow ; 
and if I forget it 
then I will send it 
to you. Good-bye, 
and many, many 
thanks ! n 

She was gone, 
and the day 
seemed to darken 
with her depar- 
ture. He made a 
motion to follow 
her, but arrested 
himself and sat 
down in the 
wooden chair. 

The girl walked 
hurriedly through 
the village until 
she was out of 
sight of the sta- 
tion, then she 
turned eastward 
into the forest. 
After tramping 
for two miles or 
more with a directness which showed an 
intimate acquaintance with the wood she 
came upon the railway at a point where a 
hght hand-car had been lifted from the track. 
She took a wooden lever that lay on the car 
and with an expertness that would have 
amazed her new acquaintance she prised the 
wheels on to the rail She pushed the car 
towards the west, sprang on board, and sped 
away toward the declining sun, working the 

walking beam with alt the skill of an old rail- 
way hand. As she approached the long 
switch of Corderoy she stopped, unlocked it, 
and side-tracked her little car. She went 
direct into the telegraph office, perched her- 
self on the stool there, placed her capable 
hand on the key, and rattled forth the letters, 
"St— St— St— St," the call for Siumpville, 
Tom quickly answered, 
41 Is that you, Jack ? I was trying to call 

you up a while 
ago. What are you 
doing there on 
Sunday ?' J 

"Oh, I just 
happened in. I 
thought you might 
be there and 
thought I would 
call you up* I have 
nothing at all to 
say except to wish 
you good-day." 

" Oh, but I have 
heaps to tell," 
answered Tom. 
" I beg to inform 
you, Jack, that I 
have had a visit 
from an angel. 
Imagine the exist- 
ence of a girl in 
the universe who 
thought trains left 
Stumpville on 
Sunday! How- 
ever, it was very 
luckv for me, and 
we've had the most 
charming conver- 
sation, which, now 
that it is ended, 
makes this place 
seem duller than 
ever. She was the 
prettiest girl I ever 
saw " 

" Really, How 

was she dressed ? " 

" Dressed ! What a question for a kid 

like you to ask ! What do you know about 

dress? I don't remember how she was dressed, 

but the effect was stunning. Dressed? Why 

she looked like a girl from Paris." 

" What is her name?" 

" Miss De Forest A rattling fine girl 

How in the world she ever drifted to this 

abandoned spot i dotvt know. She is going 

east to-mortA^Ofoaltlfie:' local. 1 shall merely 




exist until the local comes in. I hope it will 
be two hours late, and that she will be here 
an hour too soon/' 

14 Did you fascinate her, Tom ? " 

(t See here, kid, that's not the way for an 
infant to talk. You don't understand any- 
thing about these things. Wait till your time 
comes, and then you won't try to say cynical 
things. Be a good boy, and some time a 
nice girl will come to see you ; or, what's the 
same thing, you'll go to see her." 

%t Where does she live ? In Tenstrike ? " 

" I don't know yet, but I'll find out to- 
morrow. I rather 
think she does, and 
if that is so I'm 
going to move heaven 
and earth and the 
railway company to 
get promoted to Ten- 
strike. I flatter 
myself the young 
lady won't object to 
seeing me there." 

w Tom, don't get 

M Kid, don't be 
impertinent If Miss 
De Forest comes 
early to -morrow I'll 
be conceited in spite 
of all you can say* 
If she coTnes just in 
the nick of time I'll 
be in despair, and 
so will ask for what- 
ever consolation you 
can give." 

"All right, Tom; 
I'll stand by you, 
whatever happens. 
Remember, if the 
girl ignores you, you 
have me to fall back 



" That's very com- 
forting, Jack, but it doesn't quite make up, 
you know." 

The young woman laughed at this answer 
as it was ticked off to her. 

"Oh, doesn't it?" she said to herself, and 
then bade good-bye to Stump ville. 

When the local came in next evening Tom 
tried to hold it on one pretence or another, 
looking down the sandy street, but no Miss 
De Forest comforted his anxious eyes, and 
from that day on she disappeared as com- 
pletely from his cognizance as if she had 
been a spirit of the forest In vain he made 

Inquiry, No one in Stumpville had ever 
seen anyone resembling her He put an 
advertisement in the Tenstrike morning 
paper : " Will the young lady who called 
upon the telegrapher kindly send him her 
address?" But this stood for a week un- 
noticed ; Tom rubbing his eyes and wonder- 
ing if he had fallen asleep that Sunday and 
dreamt it all. Then happened a series of 
events which had an important bearing on his 
future, and almost drove the remembrance 
of the lady of mystery from his mind. 

No. 6, the west -bound express, sped 
through Stumpville 
each day about noon. 
At some siding to the 
westj whose situation 
was determined by 
the train* dispatcher, 
based upon a mathe- 
matical calculation 
depending upon the 
lateness of either or 
both trains, the ex- 
press passed No. 11, 
a fast freight going 
east. One day the 
problem was com- 
plicated by the inter- 
vention of a special, 
presumably carrying 
some of the officers 
over the road, and, 
as usual, in a great 
hurry. The express 
was late, and the fast 
freight ridiculously 
on time. Hazily 
Fenton gathered 
from the chattering 
of the instrument 
that the special was 
to run ahead of the 
express, but that no 
one of the three 
trains was to stop at 
Stumpville, so the young man paid but little 
attention to the message not intended for him. 
Presently the nervous call, "St — St — St — 
St," woke him from his reverie and he sprang 
to the instrument. There was something 
insistent in the sharp click of the sounder. 
The message that hurriedly followed was 
sufficiently anting, and he knew by the 
rapidity of it, if for no other reason, that it 
was Jack Moran who was telegraphing, 

41 Stop everything east and west of Stump- 
ville. Set the signals at once and return 
lnst^nter "■" '■' 



,. I 



" Sloan ! " shouted the young man, making 
the station ring with his stentorian call. " Set 
the signals against east and west" 

But there was no reply. Sloan was not 
within hearing, so Fenton himself ran out on 
the platform, saw at a glance that the line 
was open both ways, and kicked away the 
clutches that allowed the semaphores to 
swing out over the line in each direction a 
prohibitive red arm. He calmed down as he 
saw no trains in sight and returned to the 
telegraph-office. The call for his station was 
vibrating impatiently in the air. He checked 
the chatter and listened. 

" Telegraph instantly to Ross and tell them 
to hold No. 6 until you release her. Use the 
train-dispatcher's signature." 

"Hold on, Jack r " replied Fenton. "I 
can't do that, you know. I'm not running 
the line." 

" In God's name," came the appeal, "do 
as I tell you at once. I will explain later. 
Every moment is vital. There will be a 
smash if you delay." 

Now, for an ordinary operator to make 
Ross or anyone else think that a train- 
dispatcher was communicating with him 
when he wasn't, is an offence in railway 
circles that is unforgivable. Forgery outside 
that circle is of little matter compared with 
what Fenton at once set himself to do. He 
ordered the express stopped at Ross, and 
used the cabalistic letters which signified that 
the order came from the train -dispatcher, 
then he turned to Corderoy for explanation, 
rattling out his knowledge of the crime he 
had committed. 

" Why didn't you telegraph to Ross your- 
self ? " he asked Moran. 

" You have a firm touch on the key, and 
I haven't," was the answer. "There would 
have been inquiries, and then it would have 
been too late. Here is what has happened. 
The train-dispatcher ordered me to hold 1 1 
until the special passes. No. n had just 
gone out of the station as the message began 
to come. I knew that the special had left 
Ross, so I told you to hold both trains at 
Stumpville, but the special thinks it has a 
clear right-of-way, and No. 6 is to follow it. 
If your telegram wasn't in time to stop No. 6 
at Ross you must look out she does not tele- 
scope the special at Stumpville. There is 
just one more thing I want to say. I want 
you to take the responsibility of everything 
that has been done, as if you did it your- 

" That's rather a large order," said Fenton. 
" You cause me to break every rule of the 

road, and then calmly ask me to take all 

" I beg you to do it," pleaded Corderoy. 
11 You see, I'm only seventeen ; you are a 
grown man and accustomed to the railroad 

"All right, Jack, don't worry. I'll stand 
the brunt of it. If the lay-out is as you say, 
they can't make very much fuss, unless about 
the train-dispatcher's signature, but I'll stand 
the racket." Tom said to himself, as he 
turned away, " I got bounced once before 
for sticking by my comrades, and if it 
happens again, well, Stumpville won't be a 
big loss." 

There was now little time for meditation. 
Away to the east an angry engine was swear- 
ing. The short toot, toot said as plainly as 
words : — 

" What the dickens are you stopping us 
here for? Do you know who we are ?" 

Fenton strode out to the platform and saw 
dimly in the distance to the west the fast 
freight coming on, while the special, slowed 
down, was breaking all regulations by pass- 
ing the eastern semaphore, very cautiously, 
however, and approaching the station for an 
explanation. This was exactly what Fenton 
wanted, for the still standing signal would 
arrest the express if she had passed Ross 
before his telegram reached there. Sloan 
came puffing up from the tavern, having 
heard the indignant whistle of the special, 
and therefore knew that something was 

" Here, you confirmed loafer ! " cried 
Fenton. " Get a move on you. Open the 
upper switch and side-track No. n." 

"All right, Mr. Fenton," said the culprit, 
as he trotted down the track toward the 

The short special came cautiously up 
alongside the platform, and a stout man with 
red face and white side-whiskers, and no 
very pleased expression on his countenance, 
stepped off. 

" Who is in charge here ?" he demanded. 

" I am, sir." 

" Why have you stopped this special ? " 

" That's the reason, sir," said Fenton, 
waving his hand towards the approaching 
freight. " The order to side-track No. 1 1 
at Corderoy arrived too late. I therefore 
had to stop you until I could side-track 
No. ii. You won't be delayed two minutes, 

"Oh," said the stout gentleman, as he 
glanced toward the west, where he saw the 
fast freight sv/ing in like a serpent to the 




switch. The situation needed no explaining 
to a railway man. 

u I also took the liberty of telegraphing to 
Ross and 1 used the train -dispatcher's code- 

"The deuce you did, " growled the stout 
man, glancing keenly at him. 

i( Yes, sir ; I had to hold No. 6 at Ross, or 
there was a danger of her telescoping your 

" Could ir t you have done that without 
pretending to be the train-dispatcher ? " 


"I could, sir, but it would have been a 
risk, and there was no time to lose." 

14 What's your name ? " 

" Thomas Fenton. ,J 

" You have a good deal of confidence in 
yourself for a backwoodsman." 

^ I was not always in Lhe backwoods, sir; 
I was in the train-dispatcher's office on one 
of the Vanderbilt lines, You have a clear 
right-of-way now, sir." 

"All right* I hope you haven't smashed 
anything somewhere else." 

"I hope not, sir/' 


The stout man mounted his car without a 
word of either thanks or censure, and the 
special sped to the west. Fen ton released 
No, 6, holding No. n on the side-track until 
the express had passed, 

Three days later Jim Mason swung off the 
morning local. He glanced around at Stump- 
ville with an expression of unmodified dis- 
gust, and he greeted Fenton with boisterous 

u Here's a couple of letters for you, old 
man. I believe there's a chin- 
chin ahead of you at the 
governor's office, so I don't 
envy you ; but keep a stiff 
upper lip, and get back here as 
quick as you can, for I have to 
take your place meanwhile, and 
I tell you I don't want to be 
held up at Stumpville any 
longer than is necessary." 

One letter was from the 
general manager, who curtly 
ordered Fenton to report at 
the head office, Tenstrike City, 
next day at ten o'clock. The 
other note was marked private, 
and Fenton saw with amaze- 
ment that it was from the train- 
dispatcher ? who asked Tom to 
call on him that evening as 
soon as he reached the city, 
and say nothing to anybody in 
the interval. Fenton saw at 
once that the train-dispatcher 
was trembling for bis position, 
and he expected an appeal from 
that official because it must 
have been through his neglect 
that the tangle of the three 
trains had arisen. This rea- 
sonable s ur m i se, h o w ever, 
proved utterly erroneous. He 
found the train - dispatcher 
an alert, capable man, who 
received him with abrupt good nature. 

" I know all the details of this matter," he 
said, "and I thought 1 would give you a 
point or two before you see the old man. 
You imagine, 1 suppose, that I was to blame 
for the tardy dispatch to Corderoy? That is 
not the case. It was the fault of my assistant, 
who was on duty at the time. My position 
has been made very difficult by the fact that 
my assistant is the old man's nephew. Every- 
body in the general offices knows that the 
nephew isn't worth his salt except the old 
man, and 1 guess this has shaken him up a 




bit, because he has removed his nephew to 
the accountant's department, so he won't 
smash anything but figures. That leaves the 
office of assistant vacant, and, at the moment, 
I haven't anybody that I care to put into the 
place. Now, you're the man I call the demon 
telegrapher. Have you had any experience 
in train office work ? " 

" Yes, I was assistant to Galloway." 

" You don't tell me ! How did you come 
to quit ? " 

" The strike." 

"Ah, I see. Well, I'm to meet the old 
man to-night, and I'll ask him to let you 
come on as assistant. He's a rather crusty 
old gentleman, but a first-rate railway man, 
except where his nephew is concerned. Now, 
I want to give you a word or two of advice. 
Don't drop a hint about the mistake, or 
who caused it, or anything of that kind. Just 
hold to it that you were resolved to save the 
special and the express, and that you did save 

Fenton knew, of course, that by " the old 
man " the train-dispatcher referred to the 
general manager, and he asked if that was 
the gentleman who was in the special. 

"Yes. He was taking a turn over the 
road, and he had his wife and two daughters 
with him, so he didn't want a wreck. You've 
got things all your own way if you work it 
right and keep your temper." 

"Ill try," said Tom, "for I'm tired of 

Next morning's interview was brief and to 
the point 

" Well, young man," said the general 
manager, " I suppose you've discussed this 
affair with various friends? What conclusion 
have you come to ? " 

" I have no friends, sir, along this line." 

" But I understand you operators com- 
municate with each other over the wires. 
Have you told them up and down how near 
we came to having an accident ? " 

" No, sir" 

44 Didn't you telegraph to Ross and apolo- 
gize for using the train-dispatcher's signal?" 

" No, sir. I owed whatever explanation 
there was to be made to you or to the train- 
dispatcher, and to no one else." 

" Quite right," said the old man. " I like 
to meet a person now and then who can 
keep his mouth shut. Spencer tells me you 
have been in Galloways office. Is that 
true ? " 

" Yes, sir." 

" Then you understand the work ? " 

"Yes, sir." 

Digitized by C-OOgle 

u Very well. Report at once to Spencer, 
and I think he'll have no difficulty in finding 
a place for you." 

" Thank you, sir." 

" I may add that no disaster occurred 
through your quite unwarranted use of 
Spencer's signature." 

" I am very glad to hear it, sir." 

" Good-day," snapped the general manager, 
and Fenton went to find Spencer. 

Fenton's first pleasure after the conclusive 
interview with the train-dispatcher was to 
write a long letter to Jack Moran. He 
detailed all that had taken place, then said : 
"So you see, Jack, I am in a position that 
by rights belongs to you. If you under- 
stood the work of this office as I do 
I would at once tell the whole truth and 
have you put here in my place ; but, even if 
I were deposed now, you are not qualified to 
accept the position if it were offered you. 
So here's what I'm going to do. I shall fit 
in here and make friends. I don't want to 
ask any favours of Mr. Spencer until I show 
him I'm a person to be trusted ; then I shall 
tell him the progress you have made in tele- 
graphing in the past two months, and I shall 
ask him to give you the best place he has 
vacant in the office." 

To this he received a somewhat unex- 
pected answer : " I implore you not to do 
anything in the line of getting me a situation 
in the city," wrote Jack, " where, even if 
you succeeded in getting me promotion, I 
would not accept it. I am perfectly con- 
tented where I am and refuse to be reijroved. 
This is why I asked you to take the re- 
sponsibility of my order. I knew that if 
there was any sense at head-quarters the 
saving of these two trains would lead to your 
promotion, and, strange as it may seem to 
you, promotion is the one thing I wish to 
avoid, and I suppose I am the only operator 
on the line of whom that can be said. 
My attitude, however, will be easy to 
understand when I tell you that my father, 
who lives at Corderoy, owns about a thou- 
sand acres of pine -timbered land in this 
district, which we expect some day will be 
valuable. The work here is not difficult, 
and I live at home and help him. So, you 
see, I have no wish to move, and I beg of 
you not to speak on my behalf to the train- 
dispatcher, or to anyone else. If I change 
my mind 1 will write to you." 

So it came about that the first favour 

Fenton asked from Spencer was a day off, 

getting which, he boarded the local in the 

morning with- a, r pass in his pocket for 
b Original from v 




Corderoy and return, He wanted to see 
Jack anyway, and expected very speedily to 
show the foolish young fellow that the real 
way to help his father was to come to town 
on a much better salary than lie was 

As he stepped off at the plattorm of 
Corderoy he could scarcely resist a shout as 
he recognised, standing in the doorway, the 
young woman who had so mysteriously dis- 
appeared from his view at Stumpville that 
never-to-be-forgotten Sunday- She saw him 
at the same moment and instantly whipped 
out of sight. 

** Oh, you don't do that a second time," 
cried Tom, springing forward. 

The waiting-room was empty, but the door 
of the telegraph -office had closed with a bang, 
so Tom precipitated himself against it and 
ft gave way before his impetuosity. 

The girl he had so Ion£ sought in vnin 
stood with her hack against the telegraph 
table, facing htm resolutely but with flaming 

'* Why, Miss E)e Forest," he said, M what 
are you doing in 
Corderoy ? n 

44 Why shouldn't 
I be here ? This 
is my home," 
gasped the girl 

u Your home? 
X thought you 1 i ved 
in Tenstrike ! " 

** I never said 

u Do you mean 
to tell me that you 
— that you — you 
are Jack Moran ? " 

De Forest Moran, 
if you will have 

the whole name, Mr. Fen ton," said the 
girl, with a nervous little laugh. " It seems 
rather an imposing title for such a place as 
this, doesn't it ? So my friends all call me 
Jack, You see," she exclaimed, breathlessly, 
11 we are of French extraction, and that 
perhaps accounts for it, as well as for my 
boldness in daring to visit you uninvited." 

u Well, now I'm visiting you uninvited, 
and I can tell you, Miss Jack, I'm very glad 
I came* Won't you say you're not sorry ? 1} 

** I certainly wanted to see you again. You 
understand now/' she continued, hurriedly, 
* f why it was of no use to speak to the train- 
dispatcher about me. You selfish men don't 
allow girls to have a good situation in your 
city offices. 11 

u Oh t I don't know about that," said lorn, 
slowly. ** I'm glad, though, I didn't speak to 
Mr. Spencer, because I'm going to offer you a 
situation myself. You heard what I said, 
Jacqueline? I told you when you visited 
me that I was resolved to have Jack Moran 
for my assistant. If I was fixed in that 
purpose then, I am ten times more so now. 

Are you resolved 
never to leave 
Corderoy, Jacque- 
line?" " 

The girl turned 
her burning face 
away from him, 
her fingers ner- 
vously agitating 
the key, and quite 
unconsciously re- 
peating the call : 
-* St— St— St" 

" It depends 
altogether on who 
sends the message 
— Tom," she said, 
at last 


by Google 

Original from 

Our Graphic Humorists. 


By Frederick Dolman, 

,T is related of Sir John Tenniel 
^S^ T that when in his early mau- 
kWW hood he was offered a place 
ir^SH on the staff of Punch his first 
feeling was one of indignation. 
'* Do they suppose there is 
anything funny about me?" he is said to 
have inquired of his nearest and dearest 
friends. On second thoughts, however, the 
artist, whose aspirations were for classic 
painting! saw that the work for Punch had 
its serious dignity ; and now at the close of 
his long career Sir John Tenniel must feel 
that his early ambition has been by no means 
altogether frustrated. Has he not on in- 
numerable occasions 
given to the cartoon 
the classic power of 
national feeling ex- 
pressed in lines of 
severe accuracy and 
restraint P 

At the same time, 
the sequel has shown 
that Mark I^emon, the 
then Editor of Punch, 
must have known young 
Tenniel letter than he 
knew himself. In a 
graphic humorist no 
technical ability can take 
the pbee of a sense 
of humour, and in that 
meaning there must 
have been "some- 
thing funny " about the 
artist chosen to succeed the celebrated 
Richard Doyle. Sir John Tenniel has always 
denied that he was a caricaturist, but he 
confesses to a very keen sense of humour, 
and to a belief that his drawings are some- 
times really funny. The words of this con- 
fession suggest an interesting question as to 
the relatio ish'p between the artist's and his 
public's ?ense of humour. With this question 
upon my lips I have b^en making a round of 
calls upon our leading graphic humorists, 
asking each artist to mention his most 
successful effort, as it seems to him, for 
reproduction in The Strand Magazine 

Digitized by GoOQle 

sik jo 

I first saw Sir John Tenniel himself at his 
Maida Vale house, in a room which, it is of 
significance to note, is adorned by engravings 
from the works of Van Dyck, Rubens, 
Reynolds, and other of the great masters 
In answering my question Sir John consulted 
a volume of his cartoons recently issned from 
the office of Punch, This volume of selec- 
tions covers the whole period of his con- 
nection with the paper, beginning with the 
Opening of the Great Exhibition on May Day, 
1851, and ending with "Time's Appeal" 
on New Years Day, 1 901— Sir John's last 
Punch cartoon. 

Sir John went through the volume in a 
way which surprised me 
when I remembered 
that he was a man of 
eighty-one who many 
years ago had lost the 
sight of an eye as the 
result of a fencing 
accident ; only once or 
twice did he ask for 
my assistance with the 
smaller print. 

The cartoon which 
appears in these pages 
as the choice of ils 
author was the result, 
it will be observed, 
of one of Sir Johns 
rare digressions from 
the world of la houfc 
politique What it was 
which Jed him from 
he did not seem to 
remember - - perhaps it was the too- 
sonorous voice of a passing costermongir, 
perhaps the activity of the L*C.C. in 
a less difficult region than that of street 
noises. Be that as it may, the cartoon 
in its comic spirit had two competitors in 
the sphere of Imperial statesmanship. One 
of these was the memorable " Mose in 
Egetto," which appeared in December, 
1875, about the time when Lord Beacons- 
field had bought for this country the 
Khedive's shares in the Suez Canal Com- 
pany. Lor J Beacons field is drawn standing 


fry Afftu/J tf /'Vy 

his usual path 




Our M*s'ni».' Mastkh*,— Nrwsi-ai-fk Haukkr: 
safe enough a& long as we votes ' Progi*. - - i \ v. ! ' ' 

&ir permwvm of He) BV S m |Q«i TEv&IEL. 

on the Egyptian desert, with bis finger at the 
side of his nose, looking at the Sphinx, on 
whose features there is a delightfully expres- 
sive wink. In the second cartoon, which was 
published In August, 1878, after the Berlin 
Conference, we have Lord Beaconsfield and 
Ixjrd Salisbury dancing a u piu de deux" 
from "the Scene de Triomphe in the Grand 
Anglo-Turkish Ballet d J Action." But with- 
out much hesitation Sir John rejects both 
these efforts of his sense of humour in favour 
of t( Our Masters' Masters. 13 

Mr. Harry Furniss had the greatest pos- 
sible difficulty in complying with my request 
This arose, of course, from the fact that for 
more than twenty years his pencil has been 
as versatile in its humour as it has been 
prolific* Mr. Furniss made a calculation of 
the number of his contributions to Punch 
during his twelve years' membership of its 
Staff, and it ran into several thousands, and 
since then he has made innumerable draw- 
ings for Lika Joko, the N&v Budget, Fair 
Game, and other periodicals, alive and 

Digitized by LiOOQ I C 

I spent an hour or so 
with Mr. Furniss one even- 
ing in his studio at Regents 
Park, observing, but not 
assisting in — I was very 
careful about that — the pro- 
cess of selection. We were 
surrounded by volumes of 
these publications, as well 
as by not a few of the 
originals, and, if prolonged, 
the task was an entertaining 
one— at any rate for me. 
Mr Furniss's first choice 
was rather in favour of a 
caricature of Gladstone, 
which had indirectly re- 
ceived high praise from Mr. 
John Morley, Then it 
leaned for a few moments 
to a memorable Punch 
picture on the subject of 
Sir William Harcourt ; it 
was entitled " Harcourts 
All,* 3 and was suggested by 
a speech of Lord Randolph 
Churchill, who had banter- 
ingly alluded to the possi- 
bility of the House of Lords 
consisting entirely of Sir 
William Harcourts. 

u But the drawing of 
the picture is so bad," 
Mr. Furniss protested, as I laughed over 
the humour of its idea, " It was done 
rather in a hurry , I remember, at Felixstowe, 
where I was recuperating. Lucy wired the 
subject down to me there, and the picture 
was done in the midst of a match at golf." 

Mrs. Furniss, Miss Furniss, and even 
Master Furniss were called into council. 
Miss Furniss, who is herself an art student 
at Heatherley's, strongly urged the claims 
of one of her fathers " Swelled Heads n 
series, the original drawing of which had been 
given to her as a birthday present, and it 
certainly embodied, I thought, one of the 
artist's funniest conceptions. But Mr, Furniss 
was not to be "rushed '' by the young lady's 

Quite suddenly, when we were all reduced 
to despair, Mr, Furniss had his inspiration. 

"Other artists,' 5 he exclaimed, "may think 
fit to choose one of their most elaborate 
cartoons. But for my part, I will stand or 
fall in your Strand Magazine article bv mv 
little < Black Beetle.'" 

Mr. Furniss's "Black Beetle'* was famous 
in the pages of Punch during a considerable 


Shout away, Hill ! We're 
IPmprittort *f " Funtk" 

7 8 



From d I T hvt&. It a *£« it KpUr, AVw Yvrk+ 

part of his con- 
junction with 
t h e paper, 
making its first 
appearance in 
" The Essence 
of Parliament "' 
on March 
19th, 1 88 1. 

"One day/' 
said the cari- 
caturist in ex- 
plaining the 
birth of the 
creature, (1 I 
watched Cap- 
tain Cosset, 
the Serjeant- 
at-Arms, from 

the Press Gallery walk up the floor of the 
House in Court dress, his knee-breeches show- 
ing off his rather bandy legs, elbows akimbo, 

and curious gait ; 
his back view at 
once suggested the 
beetle, and as 
* The Black Beetle 
he*became known. 5 ' 
It was said that 
the ca rica tur e 
gave great offence 
to the official, but 
Mr. Furniss assures 
me that he has 
reason to know 
that this was not 
the case* An 
M.P. one day in- 
troduced him to 
Captain Cosset in 
the Serjeant-at-Arms* private room,<and there 
oir the wall among many portraits of Parlia- 
mentary leaders was a row of "Black 
Beetles" cut out from 

Mr. A. S. Boyd, who is 
now so well known by the 
humorous drawings winch 
he contributes to Punchy 
was at the beginning of his 
career a painter of land- 
scape and genre subjects, 
and afterwards under the 
pseudonym of M Twym n 
was the author of comic 
illustrations in Quiz and 
The Baiiie^ of Glasgow. 

It was with Mr, Boyd 


M# ptrmimtvm 0/ Ar Pmprttttni 0/ 


I spent a most agreeable time at his **Hut" 
in the Boundary Road, St. John's Wood, 
whilst he cross-examined himself on the 
question submitted to him and rummaged 
through a large collection of Punch and 
other drawings, Mr, Boyd was busy at his 
drawing-board — with some book illustration, 
I believe — but he turned gaily aside from a 
half-finished sketch and entered heartily into 
the spirit of my inquiry. After much turn- 
ing over of proofs and originals the artist's 
choice was eventually reduced to three. 

In the first the joke was concerned with 
a little Scotch lassie and her mother, As a 
Scotsman Mr, Boyd evidently preferred it, 
but the artist and the humorist asserted 
themselves in him, and it was reluctantly dis- 
carded. The second candidate had a testi- 

MK. A, 

From a Photo, 

by GoOglC 

A Si'&PirtsfcU Party,—" Why the d-d-doose don't ^ou ring 
your bellV — l*Y mk. a. s. bovd. 

Hm ptnntofcit of (ta /*n>pritfur« tf " Fmck," 

monial from Mr, W, W. 
Jacobs, who was strongly 
of opinion that it was 
the funniest thing he had 
done — a small drummer- 
boy walking by the side 
of his inamorata, a big, 
buxom 'Arriett, whom he 
is solemnly scolding for 
disrcsi>ect to the etiquette 
of the Army. The third 
drawing, which is here 
reproduced, was favoured 
by Mrs. Boyd, and on 
reflection the artist found 
Original from 


6. !U>YLi- 
!>lf SllioU tt fV* 



that his matured opinion agreed with that 
of his wife, 

11 Mrs. Boyd/* he remarks, M may be pre- 
judiced in favour of this subject because it 
was originally suggested by her, although the 
treatment of it, 
arrangement of the 
figures and so forth, 
are my own. As a 
rule, the ideas for 
my humorous pic- 
tures anse out of my 
own personal experi- 
ences. Yes, this was 
the case with the 
drawing you were 
laughing at just 

This was a little 
Punch picture which 
many readers will 
doubtless remember 
as well as I did. An 
old gentleman sud- 
denly turning a 
corner and coming 
into collision with a 
little girl's hoop, with 
the result that— with 
the cycling fiend in 
his mind — he im- 
pulsively exclaims, 
41 Why the deuce 
didn't you ring your bell?" A day or two 
before this drawing was made Mr. Boyd had 
been walking in St. John's Wood and liad a 
child f s hoop driven up against him in much 
ihc same way. It was typical of the way in 
which he can turn the little incidents of daily 
life to humorous pic- 
torial account 

Although Mr. Boyd 
is forty-seven, it is 
only ten years since 
he made his home in 
Loodoo, and it was 
in 1894 that he was 
admitted into the 
pages of Pit nth* Even 
now, with all the suc- 
cess which London 
has given him, I 
should say that he 
had the strongest 
"Autd I^ang Syne" 
feeling for Glasgow 
and Glasgow life. 
Whilst Mr. Boyd is 
absent for a few 


u Blush! Me blush! G 
Bluett yourself if ytr want?, ta 

nv v. n h could. 
From the Wtitmimuf ijasette. 

by LiOOgle 

Frttin a f hot*, hj FradtUc & rurtnp. 

minutes from the studio at "The Hut" I put 
my hand upon a mass of papers and magazines, 
and the first which it brings forth is the last- 
published number of The Bat tie, the little 
Glasgow weekly on which his spurs were won 

as a humorous 

As a caricaturist 
Mr. F, C. Gould's 
fame is now indis&o- 
lubiy associated with 
the personality of Mr. 
Chamberlain. I was 
not surprised, there- 
fore, on calling at the 
Westminster Gazette 
office to find that his 
choice had fallen on 
one of his inimit- 
able presentments of 
that right hon. gentle* 
man. It wavered for 
a moment, however, 
on a recent cartoon, 
wherein the Colo- 
nial Secretary figured 
in company with 
the Prime Minister, 
Mr, Balfour, and 
the Duke of Devon- 
shire, in the guise 
of "Our Pierrots" 
performing on "the sands of history." 

The cartoon reproduced on this page, as 
" KC.G," reminded me, is one of a series 
which had its origin in a remark which was 
made by Mr. Chamberlain when speaking to 
a Staffordshire audience at Lichfield during 

the General Elec- 
tion of iyoo : 
it were really 
that I was respon- 
sible for the war I 
should say that it 
was a feather in 
my cap." Mr. 
Chamberlain as a 
Red Indian was fol- 
lowed by Mr. 
Chamberlain as a 
coster girh 

It is character- 
istic of Mr. Gould's 
work, I may add, 
that this caricature 
should have been sug- 
gested by a speech. 
He is a close 

I tried. 



Original from 



student of speeches both in and out of 
Parliament, and I remember his once telling 
me that he considered a careful study of 
politics to be as necessary to the cartoonist 
as to the leader writer. At the same time 
his happiest efforts in the 
general estimation are the 
result of a flash of inspira- 
tion rather than of a train 
of thought In the case of 
" Unblushing/' as usually, 
W F-CG. W at once "spot- 
ted " the passage in the 
speech which became the 
text to the picture. 

As is well known, the 
originals of Mr, Gould's 
cartoons find a ready sale* 
and in the course of our 
conversation I asked him 
who were the most fre- 
quent purchasers, but he 
replied that as they were 
very often Conservative 
readers of tin* Westminster Gazette they 
might not rare to have their identity dis- 

Mr. Gould is, of course, well known to every 
reader of this Magazine, as his drawings have 
illustrated Mr. Lucy's papers u From Behind 
the Speaker's Chair " for many years. 

MR. K. 
Fmm a Photo, by 

Mr. E. T. Reed 1 *s telegraphic address, I 
observed on his notepaper, is " Prehistoric. ** 
Although he is now installed in Mr- Kumiss's 
place as Punch's Parliamentary artist, I quite 
ex pec ted j as I wended my way to Mr, Reed's 
West Kensington fiat, that 
his choice would be made 
from those " Prehistoric 
Peeps" for which Mr. Reed 
has become famous* The 
choice of "Prehistoric 
Mixed Bathing :i was not 
at once made, however, 
Mr. Reed sending it by 
post a few days subsequent 
to my call The drawing, 
which was one of a series 
of three called 4t The Stone 
Age Revisited," appeared 
only last summer in 
"Punch's Holiday Book." 
£i There is no particular 
story about it," Mr. Reed 
assures me, The first of the 
** Prehistoric Peeps " appeared in the Christ- 
mas number of 1893, three years after his 
appointment on the staff of Punch ; this was 
11 The First Hansom." The original idea 
seems to have arisen in Mr. Reed's mind 
from visiting museums and examining their 
evidences of prehistoric life. Of prehistoric 

. T\ JtF.KD. 

Ih in--. V<m der II'. ^k 


Bit jwnwHiiflt* 0/ tkt Proprietors of M P 


Original from 



animals Mr. Reed made a careful study in 
the South Kensington Museum, as well as in 
books, but, of course, much imagination has 
entered into his presentments of extinct 
monsters and their relationship to man. 

his selection is made* As regards "The 
Desperate Householder," reproduced here, 
he states that there is nothing to be told— 
adding: " I rather think— though I am not 
sure— that the idea was not my own." Mr 

DfcsrKRATE Hia^FHLJt.nKK WiitiKS our Aih-'hhti^cmf.kt : *~ l To lie disponed of, a Monltry, Very comic*] uad playful. 
Lively companion ; full of fun. Would exchange for Gold Fish, or anything useful/' 

liVt#*-ntiMirum.nftiu\ uv MR, MA HARD PARTJllHGE* f FntprietQrMvf** Puwh." 

Mr, Reed's first Punch picture, it may be 
of interest to recall, had for its subject the 
three judges of the Parnell Commission 
enjoying themselves up the river. But his 
first caricature he 
cannot quite remem- 
ber. At Harrow he 
had shown a sense of 
humour in his pencil, 
and Mr Reed tells a 
story how one day a 
master — as a punish- 
ment for caricaturing 
himself — ordered 
him to furnish carica- 
tures of all the other 
masters in the school. 

Mr* Bernard Part- 
ridge is perhaps most 
favourably known in 
the pnges of Pumh 
as the illustrator of 
Mr. Anstcy's "Voces 
Populi " and " Jab- 
be rjee," but it is from 
neither of these most 
amusing series that 

V#l. **iiL— 11. 

]jfe£to, bg 

Partridge, who, I may remind my readers, is 
a successful actor as well as artist under the 
name of " Bernard dould," confesses that, 
generally speaking, what may be called the 

literary ideas in his 
drawings are fur- 
nished hy the Editor 
of Punch or others, 
" I can hardly ever 
invent a joke, 1 ' he 
will frankly tel! you. 
This being so, the 
pictorial humour of 
such pictures as "The 
Desperate House- 
holder :t is the more 
remarkable. Mr, 
Dudley Hardy had 
just told me — and 
his experience is 
usual in his profes- 
sion that however 
funny a story sounded- 
to him in the telling, 
it was seldom that 
much could be made 
of it in the pictorial 
HTflrW The idea had 

..gmal . 

Diversity of Michigan 



to spring from his own consciousness — the 
incident had to be seen with his own eyes. 

Mr. Linky Sam bourne, who has taken Sir 
John TermieVs place, has on his door front 

J'n?j?i a Photo, by] 

Parrot -House, 1 " Mr, Sambourne says, in 
reply to my interrogation, li was entirely my 
own, and if I remember rightly it was at once 
accepted at the Punch dinner. I know I took 
a lot of trouble over the drawing, first going 
to the Zoo to make some studies of 
the birds, I had many offers for 
the original^ and it was sold to one 
of the Canons of Winchester whose 
offer arrived first." 

After much Continental wander- 
ing Mr. Dudley Hardy has once 
more found an abiding - place in 
London, his house in Gloucester 
Road f Kensington, being but a few 
minutes' walk from Mr. Lin ley Sam- 
bourne's, in Stafford Terrace, 

Mr* Hardy's face, when I asked 
him for his funniest drawing, was 
a picture of perplexity. " I forget 
my work as soon as it appears," he 


i tmm * ft*. 

at Kensington a brass 
tablet, ""Not at Home, 1 ' to 
warn away visitors on 
Thursday and Friday when 
he is in the throes of the 
principal cartoon iotPumh^ 
as arranged at the staff 
dinner on Wednesday 
evening. Calling another 
morning, however, I find 
Mr. Sambourne quite at 
leisure for a chat. 

At the outset the artist 
mentions " In the Parrot- 
House" as his best-remem- 
bered example of the comic 
spirit, although he has to go 
through the Punch volume 
for the first half of 1899 
before he can fix the date 
or the cartoon. And before 
"In the Parrot-House" is 
finally decided upon several 
other volumes are run 
through, Mr, Sam bourne's 
fancy lingers for a few 
moments u;/On an earlier 
picture relating to the Ger- 
man Emperor, but it is dis- 
missed on th,e reflection 
that its humour is now out 
of harmony with English 
feeling towards that 

" Yes, the idea of 'The "^ 

A Row in the Pa kh. it- Hotm. --The C-mph-ll-B-nn-ih-n Btrd; hi What a noise 
llwyre making ! I can hardly hear mysf rf|ih.ntk!-"| fiy-. i-.-. 




exclaims; "it comes out in so many differ- 
ent places, and I have never taken the 
trouble to file my pictures. I often wish 
I had, because it would sometimes save 

i 1 -Aj 



me a lot of trouble. But wait a moment ; 
let me think as to which is the most 
humorous thing I can recall" 

To assist his reflection Mr. Hardy takes a 
cup of coffee and a cigarette, and slowly in 
the little clouds of smoke is evolved the 
reminiscence of a Sketch drawing in its 
*" I jght Siik? of Nature," the drawing of two 
Venetian fishermen quarrelling as to the 
proprietorship of the last fish in a great haul 
they had just landed. 

41 It appeared," said Mr. Hardy, "some 
time in 1894, when I was rambling about 
the South of Europe picking up little out 
oF-the-wjy subjects for the Sketch and other 
papers. I drew this incident as I actually 
saw it on the quayside at Venice, and, 
slight as the drawing is, I think it contains 
as much real humour as anything I've 
ever done. 

" Wherever I find myself," Mr. Hardy 
said, a liitle later in our conversation, " I 
am always on the look-out for such inci- 
dents. Only yesterday, for instance, going to 
' Netting Hill Gate 
Station I passed two 
urchins carrying a 
big basket of linen, 
and I heard one say 
to the other, * And 
she nearly broke my 
'art/ This reve- 
lation of the popr 
little chap's love affairs 
struck me at the time 
as being irresistibly 
funny, and I daresay 
I may make some- 
thing of it I put 
these suggestions into 
my sketch-book, and 
I have scores of them 
always at hand. It is 
the one thing, per- 
haps, that I am 
methodical about" 

As I left Mr. Hardy 
at the gate he gave 
me an actual example 
of the quickness of 
his eye for " the light 
side of Nature." On 
the opposite pavement 
a respectable -looking 
young woman was 
making pictures for 
the entertainment of 
the passers-by. She 
had taken up her 
position there an hour or two before, and 
Mr. Hardy had already interviewed her. 
"She calls herself," he remarks, "the first 

_■ I lull Ml I I "J I 1 1 
rrotti u .(«£*! 


8 4 


woman pavement-artist, and when I told her 
that I was in the same line of business she 
simply replied, * On canvas, I suppose?' 
So I dropped a couple of shillings into her 
bag, and I think 
I must now 
make a sketch of 

Mr. J. A. 

Shepherd, whose 
"Zigzags at the 
Zoo," "Fables," 
and other works 
have formed 
memorable fea- 
tures of The 
Strand Maga- 
zine, rusticates 
at H Horley, in 
Surrey- As 
admirers of his 
work will sup- 
pose, Mr. Shep- 
herd has spent 
a good deal of 
his time in the 
farmyard, and it 
is by a travesty of feathered life that he has 
chosen to be represented in this article. 

"I had been making studies of chickens 
all day at a poultry show/' Mr. Shepherd 
tells me, not in illustration of the fidelity of 
his artistic method, -but in explanation of the 

>IR. J. A. SIIRF'HtLkD. 

origin of this picture* "In the evening I 
was at a dance. Looking on at the company 
and being full of my work I began seeing 
resemblances in my work to my late models 

(my amusement 
and business at 
all times), and 
when the barn 
dance struck up 
—there was the 
notion I* 

"The Earn 
Da nee," I 
believe, like all 
Mr. Shepherd's 
work , was very 
rapidly drawn. 
In fact, with a 
reputation made 
at twenty - five, 
and such a re- 
cord of work as 
he now has at 
thirty - five for 
The Strand, 
Punchy and other 
publications, the 
artist has clearly 
never wasted much time- First at Bromley, 
Kent, and now at Horley, Surrey, Mr. Shep- 
herd has collected quite a menagerie of models 
for his distinctive "line" of work, including 
a number of bulldogs, the rearing of which 
has been a very successful hobby with him. 

■ ■■ -■■■>' i 


Bit ptrmiition o/ tht] 



tori of L " Punok." 



By ptrjftiMvm of tht\ 


BV ME, TOM I1KOWNE. iFTQpr&Ufl'$Gf"PvXlA r m 

Mr. Torn Browne, R.I., sent me his peii 
and ink drawing, "Henley," from the Punch 
Almanack of 1900, This picture may be 
said to be the outcome of much boating 
experience on the Upper Thames, for Mr. 
Browne, who now lives at 
Blackheath, has been in 
his time an enthusiastic 
oarsman* His time has 
been only seven years — 
that is as far as London 
is concerned, for it was 
only in 1894 that he left 
his native Nottingham to 
win fame as a black and 
white artist. 

The career of Tom 
Browne is quite a little 
romance of art, and as 
it is not yet generally 
known I should like to 
tell it here. Born in 
1872, educated at a 
National school em- 
ployed for three years 
as an errand-boy in the 
Nottingham Lace Market 
- that is the first chapter. 
Apprenticed to a firm of 

lithographic printers, his ^a^Jj 


artistic talent excited in this somewhat 
favourable atmosphere, drawing at night for 
obscure comic papers, attending the Notting- 
ham School of Art — second chapter, End 
of his apprenticeship at the age of twenty- 
one, a bold descent upon 
London, a hard struggle 
to obtain a foothold in 
London ill us trated 
journalism 3 decisive 
success with the Graphic \ 
Sketch, Punch \ The King 
and other leading periodi- 
cals — third chapter, Mr* 
Browne, who has been 
elected a member of 
both the Royal Institute 
and the Royal Society of 
British Artists, may at 
the age of thirty confi- 
dently look forward to 
the further chapters in 
his brilliant career. He 
has travelled a good deal 
in France, Spain, and 
Holland. Indeed, the 
rustic Hollander, with his 
balloon-like trousers and 
hu^e wooden cloys, is one 


£ Kidd t ii 

^iwbbity tf rami te rabject *" 



Mr. L. Raven- Hill, who combines the 
cultivation or art with the practice of agricul- 
ture on his estate in Wiltshire, sent me the 
following reply : — 

"As good a thing as any of mine came 
out about a year 
ago last August 
or September. 
Fat old woman 
getting into 'bus. 
Driver says: 
* Try zideways.' 
She says : ' Lar' 
bless 'ee t I ain't 
got no zideways.' 
Actually over- 
h eard in the 

The market- 
place, I presume, 
was Devizes, 
near which town 
Mr. Raven -Hill 
dwells in a house 
where Napier 
wrote his history 
of the Peninsular 

War, In thus being based upon fact this 
picture resembles nearly all those pictorial 
jests with which this artist unfailingly sustains 
the gaiety of the nation. 



the battle painter Morot's great lesson was 
to apply generally the method which he 
applied specially to horses. His system was 
to close the eyes until the retina became a 
blank and then to take a flash glimpse — a 

rapid opening 
and shutting of 
the lids — and 
in this way an 
impression of 
action can be re- 
tained for several 
seconds. Mr. 
Raven- Hill aims 
for that instan- 
taneous record 
of all he sees. 
But it was not 
for some time 
that he had an 
opportunity of 
making his gifts 
k n o wr>. He 
returned from 
I'aris, and, to 
use his own 
won Is, painted 
acres of pictures that didn't sell. He 
did all kinds of work, and used to go 
round to the newspaper offices with a port- 
folio of drawings ; and the editors kindly 


Carrikh : " Try sideways, Mrs. Jones, try tideways ! ,h Mks. Jon** ; " Lar btfe* ee, John, I am t got no zideways ! ** 

He received his artistic training at first in 
London and afterwards in Paris, where he 
learned his art from Bougereau and Morot, 

told him how to draw, and what art meant, 
and gave hjf^j ,tajta ftfeffl* design, and were 

hurt D'toEfei^»k^ ,dcarryout 



their ideas with a fork and a pat of 
butter. But success was bound to 
come- and few men have been more 
successful than the present genial 
member of Mr. Punch's staff. Mr, 
Raven- Hill generally invents his own 
jokes, but sometimes, as in the case of 
the drawing he has here selected, he 
takes a hint from life. He is one of 
the test living observers of rustic 
character and rural types, and his 
humour has a touch of subtlety and 
refinement all his own. 

I found Mr. James R Sullivan in 
the throes of removal from one Wim- 
bledon villa to another, and was dis- 
appointed therefore of the quiet little 
chat I had pleasantly anticipated with 
the delineator of "The Queer Side of 
Things "—that most amusing series of 
papers which originally appeared in the 
pages of- this Magazine. I hope to get 
some consolation when Mr. Sullivan 
gives us his sketch of the pantechnicon 
men at work, for it was in his 
troubles as a householder, I find, 
that Mr. Sullivan found inspira- 
tion for what he himself con- 
siders to be about his funniest 

il The vagaries of the water com- 
panies," Mr Sullivan tells me t "in 
charging for water not supplied in 
consequence of drought or frost, 
or for other reasons, first gave me 
the idea for * The Great Water Joke ' ; also 
their contention that a bath is not for domestic 
purposes and must be paid For extra.' 1 

Front a Photo, fcy Elliott it Fry. 

14 The Great Water Joke " was both written 
and illustrated by Mr, Sullivan, who quaintly 
signs himself, by the way, " Jassef Sullivan/' 


ftp jxmfuricm <?/ Menrt, Ikmnev <* Cto. 

It appeared in a Christinas number of 
Pearson's Magazine^ and has been republished 
in book form by Messrs. Downey, 

The incident which Mr. Sullivan has 
chosen to represent hi* most humorous work 
is described in the following lines taken 
from his book just mentioned : — 

VA I'm sorry!" said the Company ; "I'm perfeclly 

To think you haven't water, but it happens I here's a 

drought. 1 ' 

4r I'm sorry !" said the Company ; ** my grief is very 

great ; 
The Winter's frozen up the mains ; hut kindly pay the 


In the course of talk over the Punch 
volumes Mr. Linley Sambourne had spoken 
of Mr. Phil May's drawing in the number 
for August 21st, 1897, "The Fisherman and 
the Lunatic," as that which he would person- 
ally select as representative of his colleague's 





From a Photo, by EUiatt d Frg, 

Curiously enough, when I called upon 
Phil May, in St John's Wood, a day or two 
later, this was the picture he selected after a 
minute's consideration. 

11 1 had been to Wakefield just before," 
he remarked, M and noticed a lunatic asylum 
there which overlooks a river where there 
are generally a number of people fishing, 
especially on Saturday afternoon. They 
never catch anything— the river is probably 
too dirty to contain any fish. Phis is how 
I got the idea T and I may say that most of 
my jokes arise in this way from things that I 

Phil May finds most of his subjects in the 
East end of London among the coster girls, 
guttersnipes, and other types which he has 
rendered immortal, Hut all his models have 
not belonged to the lower orders, and once 
he even had a Bishop sitting to him, " The 
Bishop had a splendid head and shoulders," 

snys the artist, u but the lower part of his 
body and his legs were £ a bit off,' so I made 
a prize-fighter sit for the body and legs> to 
the huge satisfaction of the Bishop and his 

Another of his jokes came to him in this 
way. He went into an oyster saloon and 
ordered a dozen natives, when another man 
entered and gave a similar order, inquiring 
anxiously of the proprietor if the oysters 
were fresh* " Fresh ! " echoed the bivalve 
merchant. "Fresh! Why "—indicating Phil 
May with a wave of his hand— "the first 
oyster that gentleman took up bit his lip ! " 

Lunatic (suddenly popping hh head river 
you doing ihereY " ]4ttuw.rt : 4 * Kishing. 11 1 
no f i hing ? * Bwo wn : "Nat" Lu h a t ic : 
yon been there I " Bkowk : "Six bouts." 
insult /'* 

wall): "What are 
hUkatic i u Caught 

" How long have 
Lunatic: "Cm* 


lilt ptrmiuion p/ the JPrafirfetori of " J'uiKh." 

by Google 

Original from 

The Strok Violin, 

By D. Donovan, 

| HEN, about three hundred 
years ago, some daring spirit 
cut down a treble viol and 
converted it into a "violinb," 
or little viol, he probably 
never dreamed that he was 
giving to the world an instrument that should 
ever afterwards rule as king in the vast 
domain of music. The potentialities of the 
transformed viol were at once perceived, 
and the construction 
of fiddles became an 
art. During the six- 
teenth, seventeenth, 
and eighteenth cen- 
turies there were 
masters whose names 
were mint - marks of 
excellence, and a 
genuine instrument 
by one of these 
makers is at the pre- 
sent day worth an 
almost fabulous sum* 
When it is remem- 
bered, however, that 
in those times of long 
ago the old makers of 
violins knew nothing 
of the scientific laws of 
sound , the wonder is 
they were able to pro- 
duce such marvellous 
results. And with the 
dawn of the twentieth 
century a new instru- 
ment, constructed on 
purely scientific lines 
and called the u Stroh 
Violin/ 3 after the 
name of its inventor, 
is added to the great 
string family. As a 
mere mechanical in- 
vention it deserves more than a passing notice; 
while for power and quality of tone it is safe 
to predict that it will take a high place. 

The inventor, Mr. A. Stroh, a gentleman 
eminent in the world of science and an 
expert in all matters of acoustics, conceived 
the idea that he could produce a stringed 
instrument of the violin class which should be 
dependent for its tone and quality on an 
entirely new arrangement. He worked out 
his theory in a series of experiments, and 
ultimately gave it practical shape, I i is beauti- 
ful instrument is quite a new departure \ and 

From a] 


although the technique and method of finger- 
ing are exactly the same, the Stroh violin, as 
will be seen by the illustrations, bears little 
resemblance to its predecessors* 

The new fiddle differs as much from the 
ordinary violin as a cornet differs from a 
trumpet. The scroll, neck, and finger-board 
are alike, but having said that one has said 
all, as in every other essential the Stroh is 
different The inventor began by discarding 

the usual box as un- 
necessary, and here he 
was confronted with 
the problem — How 
were the vibrations of 
the four strings to be 
conducted viA the 
bridge to a resonator, 
without devices that 
must necessarily inter- 
fere with the quality 
of tone r and more or 
less destroy the timbre 
of the strings? In 
solving this problem 
he never lost sight ot 
w el 1- r ecog n i se d laws 
of musical sound. 
The slightest check 
to perfectly free 
vibration would be 
detrimental to the 
quality of tone, a very 
important factor in 
connection with the 
violin ; and if the 
enormous pressure of 
the strings — some- 
thing like 6zlb. when 
tuned to pitch — were 
allowed fo rest upon 
a bridge that was in 
direct contact with 
the device which he 
decided should take the place of the belly of 
the violin, the vibration would certainly be in- 
terfered with. His knowledge of repeating and 
recording instruments in connection with tele- 
graphy induced him to try a diaphragm, or disc, 
and he was soon convinced that he had solved 
the problem, The result of this research 
was the production of a corrugated aluminium 
diaphragm, of winch we give an illustration. 

The vibrations of the strings are conducted 
by means of an ordinary violin-bridge, which 
rests upon a rocking ilerer to this diaphragm 

andr WflfelTY OF MICHIGAN 




From a\ 

run srrcoH violin. 


The dia- 

The lever supporting the bridge oscillates 
laterally upon the body of the instruments 
the end being attached to the aluminium 
disc by a small connecting link 
phragm is held in position be- 
tween two indiarubber cushions 
by means of v a specially 
designed holder, fixed also upon 
the body of the violin by two 
brackets. Attached to this 
holder is a trumpet or resonator, 
which augments the sound. 

The body or cylinder of the 
instrument is in no way em- 
ployed for sound purposes* Its 
main object is to hold the 
various parts of the violin to- 
gether, and to sustain the enor- 
mous pressure of the strings 
when tuned. The disc, which 
represents the belly of an 
ordinary violin, is perfectly free 
to vibrate, so that when the strings are set in 
motion by the bow the bridge and rocktny- 
lever vibrate in unison, and every vibration is 
transmitted to the diaphragm. The diaphragm 
sets in motion the air contained in the reson- 
ator, this resonator acting as a distributor of 
the sound waves. The disc is of peculiar con- 
struction, and its possible application to the 
phonograph may lead to very important 
results in the future. 

The mechanism of the Stroh violin is mar- 
vellously simple, as will be seen from the 
illustrations, and cannot easily get out of 

Each part can be seen at a glance, and in 
the manufacture of the instrument a standard 
gauge will be observed, so that in the event of 
accident the damaged part can be easily 
procured. Although the diaphragm is made 
from aluminium there is an absolute absence 
of metallic sound, even to ears long accus- 
tomed to the toties of the wooden violin 

The rich, mellow 
tones, hitherto sup- 
posed to require a 
century to mature 
and perfect them, 
are very noticeable 
in the Stroh, The 
slightest contact 
with the bow will 
produce I hem, and 
with such ease and 
fluency do they 
flow that the 
player, whither he 
be professional or 

amateur, can hardly fail to appreciate this 
very distinctive characteristic, 

Much has been written about what is termed 
the "reserve" force of a Joseph Guamerius. 
As a matter of fact a Stroh has 
the reserve power of three 
"Josephs," and is as loud as 
four ordinary violins. The 
(i-string is a dream. It pos- 
sesses the deep, rich quality of 
a fine 'cello A, but there is no 
Qn evenness in the strings. The 
harmonics are loud and pure, 
and what is of great impor- 
tance is an entire absence of 
"scrape*" This is a point that 
solo-players will value highly. 
Of course, the idea of a new 
violin that can be played upon 
immediately it is finished, and 
that will produce marvellous 
tone and quality of sound, will 
possibly come as a shock to old-fashioned 
people, to whom the original violin has been 
a cherished idol ; but the spirit of invention 
respects no one's prejudices. And it may 



<frt$ r 



9 1 

F/vm a\ 



not be out of place here to quote the well- 
known writer, Mr + Pain, who in " (J rove's 
Dictionary of Music " says : — 

** A good deal of enthusiasm has been 
lavished by connoisseurs on the beauty of 
design and varnish of the old Cremona 
violins, and even in some useful and reput- 
able works on the subject this enthusiasm 
has been carried to a point where it can only 
be described as silly and grotesque. A 
fiddle, after all, even a Stradivarius, is not a 
work of [Hire art like a piece of painting or 
sculpture : it is as merely a machine as a 
watch, a gun, or a plough* Its main excel- 
lencies are purely mechanical, and though 
most good fiddles are also well designed and 
handsome, not a few are decidedly ugly." 

No one who examines the Stroll, however 
critically, can fail to admit, if he be honest, 
that it is a wonderful piece of mechanism, 
which in the hands of a trained player is 
capable of great things j while for the mere 
amateur or the beginner it possesses advan- 
tages which are peculiar to itself and cannot 
be overrated. 

In weight it is only a few ounces heavier 
than the ordinary violin. Its increased 
power makes it equal to three or four violins 
of the old pattern, and yet it is so re- 
markably sensitive 
that it can be 
played so as to pro- 
duce delicate pp 
and ppp passages 
with scarcely any 
pressure on the 
bow, As a solo 
instrument it ful- 
fils all the require- 
ments of the most 
exacting virtuoso ; 
at the same time it 
will be of great 
value in small 
orchestras. Two 
Strgh violins and 

one Stroh viola would be equal to eight or 
nine wooden fiddles. 

The Stroii has already received *the ap- 
proval of some very eminent musicians* And 
at a recent concert iti London a distinguished 
and critical audience pronounced it an un- 
qualified success ; while competent authorities 
'-predict a great future for it. 

But even if the merits of the instrument, 
merely as a violin, were less conspicuous than 
they are, it inust> as an exponent of certain 
principles of acoustics, be regarded with wan- 
der, In loudness, pitch, and timbre, or, as the 
Germans term it, Ktang-farht^l is without an 
equal in its class. Tyndall most expressively 
terms this Klang-farht " clang -tint," and 
nothing could better convey the true mean- 
ing of the word, for timbre is, if the 
expression is allowable, the very soul and 
colour of sound. It is quite distinct from 
loudness and pitch, which, in order to con- 
vert them into musical sound, must be asso- 
ciated with timbre. In a very eminent de- 
gree these three qualities are represented in 
the new invention ; and Mr, Stroh has suc- 
ceeded in blending them with such delicacy 
and artistic effect that one is almost led to 
believe he has reached the ultimate limit irt 
this respect, and that further improvement 
is impossible. 

The Stroh violin is certainly the creation 
of a man of genius and the result of long 
study of the laws by which we obtain the 
true poetry of sound. And it will, I venture 
to predict, in spite of prejudice, ultimately be 
recognised not only as a triumph of creative 
skill, but as worthy of taking its place with 
those instruments which depend for their 
effect upon attuned strings* 


Some Wonders from the West. 

Bv E* Leslie Gilliams. 

\K of the most remarkable 
clubs of modem times has its 
head - quarters in Aimed a, 
California, U«S*A* It is known 
as the "Old Men's Singing 
Club/ 1 no one being admitted 
to it who has not the gift of song and who 
lias not passed at least his sixty-fifth birthday. 
The club has 101 members with an aggre- 
gate age of 6,666 years. 

It has been a source of regret to those who 
love classical music and the tuneful melody 
of old-time ballads that "coon-songs" and 
nigger ditties are the only style of music 
popular with the younger generation. To 
this want of appreciation of old-fashioned 
tunes may be traced the birth of the u Old 
Men's Singing Club," 
This club has been in existence for about 

one year, and has been entirely successful, 
the membership list increasing each week. 
It has a president and officers and a musical 
director — Herr Theodore Vogt The mem- 
bers of the club believe in the old adage that 
" A woman is as old as she looks ; a man as 
old as he feels*" And they say that they 
feel no older than they did forty years ago ; 
3lld they believe that they can sing as well 

now as they did in the days of " Auld Lang 
Syne*" Herr Theodore Vogt, who was 
connected with the Royal Conservatory at 
Stockholm, after a year's experience with these 
hoary -headed vocalists says that they possess 
voices of remarkable quality and strength, 

The "Old Men's Singing Club" was 
formed when Fritz Boehmer celebrated his 
seventieth birthday, Mr, Boehmer is a 
prominent member of the Almeda German 
Colony, and, as all the Germans in Aimed a 
would be ashamed not to be musical, he 
decided to organize a singing club. He 
made some inquiry among his friends, and, 
to his horror, he found that nearly all the 
musicians who were on his calling list were 
of tlie nigger-song variety. He noticed that 
most of them wore open-work socks and 
fancy waistcoats and played comic opera songs 

on banjos and 
mandolines* There 
was no room in 
their repertoire for 
the old-time melo- 
dies of the younger 
days of Mr. Boeh- 
mer. The old 
man swore a 
mighty oath that 
if he could not 
find the music 
of the old days 
in the soul of the 
young men of the 
city he would 
turn for what he 
sought to his com- 
panions in years— 
and so the "Old 
Men's Singing 
Club "came to be. 
No one was eligible 
who parted bis hair 
in the middle, or 
who had any part- 
ing at all, or any 
hair on the top of his head to part ; or who 
wore low patent leather shoes and gaudy 
hosiery, or gay neckties or fancy waistcoats. 

Having organized the club a set of rules 
was next in order. It was decided that no 
one younger than sixty- five years could 
become a member, Fortunately, the greater 
number who liav.j applied for entrance have 





was made in favour of the Hon. E. K. Taylor, 
secretary of the organization, who is barely 

For nearly a year they met and practised, 
gaining steadily in numbers and in excel- 
lence; then they announced their intention 
of giving a concert for the benefit of the 
poor of Almeda. The only lady artist was 
the Senora Benina Barone > aged 103 years, 
who danced and sang u La Tolla." 

This old 
Spanish woman 
was born in 
Mexico in 
1 79 8 ; she 
danced in the 
Spanish City of 
Mexico while 
in the first 
blush of mai- 
denhood, and 
the picturesque 
cavaliers of* 
those times 
pelted her with 
roses. To the 
tinkling accom- 
paniment of a 
guitar they sang 
love-songs un- 
derneath her 
window. Those, 
she says, were 
merry days. 
The weary feet, 
which at their 
owner's request 
danced once 
more in order 
that a few 
exira dollars 
might be added 
to the fund 
for the poor, 

were as light as in the bygone days, and if 
the aged voice quavered, no one noticed iL 
She was accompanied on the guitar by a 
Spanish youth — Sen or Joseph Balderamos, 

The old men were in splendid voice. 
Their tones rang out in sonorous cadence, 
and long before the evening was over the 
jingling airs of music-hall and vaudeville 
were voted as soulless as the blasts from a 
tin trumpet, Fritz Boehmer hailed himself 
as the musical saviour of the city on the bay. 

* E The people can't love what they don't 
know," he said, " If you would have citizens 
who like and appreciate good music, let them 
grow up with 4 knowledge of it In order 


to do this melody must be breathed in with 
the air. It must be lived* The children 
must be brought up with music. In order to 
be musical one must be born of a town and 
State and nation where music is not only an 
honoured profession, but a matter of course. 
The Germans are a musical race, and to 
that potent influence I lay much of the love 
of home, the sweetness of domestic relations, 
that are so much a part of its people. If 

we of America 
were to gather 
oft^ner in our 
huim-Sj and to- 
gether raise our 
voices in song, 
it would be 
better for us." 

This concert 
brought this re- 
markable club 
before the pub- 
lic, and it gained 
fame in a single 
night Several 
of the leading 
musical organ- 
izations in both 
San Francisco 
and Oakland 
have sought to 
absorb it, but it 
declines to be 
taken into any 
glee club, or 
sangerfest, or 
other such frivo- 
lous crowd* It 
will continue as 
it began, an 
organization for 
old men and old 

is a CiiAk.M]?;*; DArfCEk and STNGER 
E MEMUl^K UF THb' CLL'll. I Phutu. 

songs, but it 
is ambitious to 
grow to a club of five hundred members. 
Fancy it ! Five hundred old men, each one 
with a voice that, had he chosen, might have 
made him rich and famous- for none but 
those with fine voices are welcomed by the 
old men, who claim that to the balmy climate 
of California they owe their gift of song* 

The officers of the club are as follows : 
President, Fritz Boehmer, aged 71 ; secre- 
tary, Hon. E. K. Taylor, aged 40 ; treasurer, 
F. \Y\ Greeley, aged 79 ; vice-presidents^ 
David Martin, aged 78 ■ E. B, Dunning, 
aged 66; Henry Epstein, aged 72; Judge 
E* A, Swasey7 lt agedjaj-L. W k Downs, aged 




The most remarkable cargo in the world 
a train composed of twelve refrigerator cars 
containing about 2,000,000 eggs — was re- 
cently gathered by one firm in the vicinity of 
Newton, Kansas, and shipped to San Fran- 
cisco, California, U.S. A, The express went 
as a special over the Sante Ke road, and was 
the first instance of a train with a cargo con- 
sisting exclusively of eggs passing into the 
State of California, 

The twelve cars composing the train in 
which was this fragile cargo were constructed 
in a manner best calculated to preserve the 
entirety of the breakable and delicate freight 
They were built upon a plan which enabled 
the shippers to pack great numbers of crates 
so that every available bit of space in the 
cars was utilised* The story concern) rjg the 
method of bringing this enormous quantity 
of eggs to one firm for shipment and the 
care exercised in conveying them thousands 

of farmers with large, lumbering waggons 
slowly make their way into town toward the 
storehouse, and to the observer, unacquainted 
with local customs, the question immediately 
arises, " What is the meaning of this caval- 
cade—is a population moving ?' J 

The storehouse is a large brick building, 
oblong in shape, several stories high, and 
capable of housing three millions of eggs 
at one time, A valuable feature which 
distinguishes it from all other storage 
places is the inclined plane, connecting 
floor with floor, that does away with the 
jerking and jolting of elevators, thus pre- 
venting mishaps in moving the eggs to 
different sections of the building. At this 
terminus, or egg -depot, about fifty alert 
clerks are ready to receive consignments of 
eggs from the husbandmen. In order to 
preserve harmony and prevent confusion 
each farmer must report to the clerk repre- 

From a] 


of miles through desert and mountain is 
most interesting. 

This section of country, which is called 
the Middle West, rs prosperous, for the egg 
industry is a most important factor in the 
business of the vicinity, and employment is 
given to hundreds of farmers who make their 
livelihood by raising chickens* For miles 
surrounding the town of Newton, Kansas, are 
heard the cackling of hens and the fluttering 
of the barnyard fowl Hens, hens,, every- 
where, until the traveller is disposed to 
believe himself in Bedlam, and wonders how 
many miles he will have to drive in order to 
find peace and quiet. It is estimated that 
about 90 per cent, of the farmers within a 
radius of twenty miles from the town raise 
riens for laying purposes and ship their 
products to Newton, In order to make the 
work of distribution as systematic as possible, 
the firm has divided the country into sections, 
each portion bringing in its weekly supply at 
a stated period, thus preventing confusion. 
Hut every day in the early morning droves 

senting his section of the country; in this 
way knowledge of* the condition of eggs 
shipped can easily be traced if certain lots 
are not up to the standard. 

The eggs are then placed in pasteboard 
boxes, containing compartments for each one> 
and these boxes are placed in crates ready 
for shipment After the prohlem of finding 
a suitable home for the storage of eggs had 
been solved the difficulty arose as to the 
method of transporting them safely. In- 
genious minds, after much trouble and delay t 
devised what is now the most complete and 
easiest- going storage car in America, These 
cars were especially constructed for carrying 
their fragile cargo, and are divided into com- 
partments so that the proper amount of cold 
air is distributed evenly to each crate. Beneath 
every car are springs that enable it to proceed 
over the ties with as little jolting as is afforded 
the luxurious passenger of the Pullman. The 
value of the shipment aggregated about 
^5,000, including freight charges, which 
amounted Qxmm'^f^S^ 





The most marvellous and beautiful dress 
in the world is owned by Miss Ellene Jaqua, 
a famous singer and well-known society 
belle of Brooklyn, New York, U.S.A. It 
is a costume made of spun glass, and its 
shimmering folds dazzle the eyes and 
bewilder the brain of all who ga^e upon the 

The material for this valuable and wonder- 
ful gown took five months to spin — or, more 
correctly speaking, to blow— and was made 
in Dresden, Germany; the gown was cut in 
Taris, and does credit to the designer* 

The colour effects of the dress under a 
strong light are won 
derfuL Delicate 
shades of pale green, 
blue, and silver-white 
blend into each 
other with bewilder 
ing rapidity as the 
li::ht falls upon the 
folds, presenting an 
aspect of unusual 
charm, lustre, and 
richness. Although 
the gown does not 
sparkle, the indes- 
cribable sheen which 
it throws out dazzles 
the e,je for the 
moment, The entire 
effect is of rays of 
moonlight cast upon 
a satiny silver sur~ 
face. The cloth or 
body and the trim- 
mings of the dress 
consist of millions 
of extremely fine 
and delicate strands 
of pure spun glass, 
and it is only upon 
careful examination 
that an adequate 

idea of the great amount of labour put 
into the weaving of the material can be 
gained. It was a most delicate and difficult 
task to blow the glass until the strands or 
threads were strong and yet pliable enough 
to be woven into a cloth which would be 
serviceable and permit of being cut and 

At the Chicago Exposition in 1893 there 
was a glass dress exhibited,, which became 


From a Photo, by £lticjt< Brooklyn, A. Y. 

the property of the Infanta Eulalie, but this 
gown was only for show, and could not be 
worn, for so fragile were the strands of glass 
that the slightest effort to bend them would 
cause them to snap and splinter into a 
thousand pieces. 

Miss Ellene Jaqua is therefore the first 
person to possess a glass -gown which can 
actually be worn, and not once only. It 
possesses a constitution which will enable it 
to live the usual space of time allotted to the 
ball gown of a lady. 

The style of this dainty dress was designed 
after the latest Parisian fashion. The skirt, 

being of a demi- 
train, hangs like a 
soft richness of bro- 
cade, cut in simple 
fashion with full 
gathers at the back 
and chaste and 
simple in the front, 
outlining the figure 
in graceful folds. 
The bodice, cut low, 
clings to the figure 
with all the pliancy 
of silk. About the 
neck is a full ruch- 
ing, finished by 
fringe of spun glass ; 
the full fringe of 
glass which finishes 
the corsage is re- 
peated in effect 
about the skirt in 
a flounce with three 
bands of glass braid, 
which scintillates in 
the light. 

It may also be in- 
teresting to know 
that it took over 
fourteen yards of 
extra wide glass 
cloth, thirty-five yards of spun glass braid, 
and twenty -five yards of glass fringe — it] 
all, seventy-four yards of material — to make 
up this garment. Many would suppose that 
this great quantity of cloth, braid, and fringe 
would make it a rather heavy article of wear- 
ing apparel, but it does not weigh any more 
than an ordinary evening gown of the softest 
material Its minute strands are so artisti- 
cally woven ifia9H1^\^i"fl that it is perfectly 





jFiijm a i *Ait^, ty Sito eir, £r tvoi. fyn, A". F. 

flexible and pliable, and can 
be worn with as perfect com- 
fort and freedom as any even- 
ing gown. 

The process by which the 
glass is spun remains a secret 
with the spinner, but some 
idea is given in saying that 
specially prepared glass was 
melted and made into tube 
forms of various lengths and 
colours. These tubes were 
run through flames to a concen- 
trated point of intense heat, 
reducing them to a semi-melted 
state in order to make them 
pliable before coming in con- 
tact with the large spir.nmg- 
wheel, which is several feet in 
circumference, having numer- 
ous small grooves around the 
outside band, and revolving 
several thousand fret & minute. 

The machine was turned and 
operated by hand. The tubes 
when in the required state were 
then placed on the wheel, 
where the grooves, catching the 
ends of the tubes, spin them 
into strands of great fineness until 
they lose their brittleness, coming 
from the wheel even finer than a 
hair and as soft as silk- These 
strands are hollow and so minute 
that it requires a microscope to 
detect the holes in the ends. 

After this process of spinning 
was completed the threads were 
gathered and placed in a hand- 
loom and woven into glass cloih 
several yards in length, in the same 
manner as any other material. 

Miss Jaqua, who is the proud 
owner of this wonderful dress, is 
an eminent artiste, having a wide 
reputation as a singer not only 
in her own city, but throughout 
the Eastern States. 


FLIGHT EFFF.CT, l&fary. i 


At Sunwich Port. 

By YV. W. Jacobs. 


HE two ladies received Mr, 
Hardy T s information with 
something akin to consterna^ 
tion s the idea of the autocrat 
of Equator Lodge as a stow- 
away on board the ship of his 
ancient enemy proving too serious for 
ordinary comment. Mrs* Kingdom's usual 
expressions of surprise, " Well, I never did!" 
and " Good gracious alive!" died on her lips* 
and she sat gazing helpless and round-eyed 
at her niece. 

14 1 wonder what he said," she gasped, at 

Miss Nugent, who was trying to imagine 
her father in his new rdk aboard the Con- 
queror^ paid no heed. It was not a pleasant 
idea, and her eyes flashed with temper as 
she thought of it. Sooner or later the whole 
affair would be public property. 

** I had an idea all along that he wasn't 

could think of a satisfactory reply Bella came 
to the door and asked to speak to her for a 
moment Profiting by her absence, Mr. 
Hardy leaned towards Miss Nugent, and in a 
low voice expressed his sorrow at the mishap 
to her father and his firm conviction that 
everything that could be thought of for that 
unfortunate mariner's comfort would be done- 
"Our fathers will probably come back good 
friends, :| he concluded. "There is nothing 
would give me more pleasure than that, and 
I think that we had better begin and set 
them a good example," 

"It is no good setting an example to 
people who are hundreds of miles away," 
said the matter-of-fact Miss Nugent, "lie- 
sides, if they have made friends, they dotrt 
want an example set them/* 

"But in that case they have set us an 
example which we ought to follow," urged 

Miss Nugent raised her eyes to his. 


in I^ondon," murmured Mrs* Kingdom. 
" Fancy that Nathan Smith standing in Sam's 
room telling us falsehoods like that ! He 
never even blushed/' 

"But you said that you kept picturing 
father walking about the streets of London, 
wrestling with his pride and trying to make 
up his mind to come home again," said her 
niece, maliciously. 

Mrs. Kingdom fidgeted, but before she 

Vol, x*Lii.— 13- Copyright , 1901, by W. W. Jacobs 

"Why do you wish to be on friendly 
terms ? " she asked, with disconcerting 

41 1 should like to know your father," 
returned Hardy, with perfect gravity ; " and 
Mrs. Kingdom — and you." 

He eyed her steadily as he spoke, and 
Miss Nugent, despite her utmost efforts, 
realized with some indignation that a faint 
tinge of colour was creeping into her cheeks. 




She remembered his covert challenge at 
their last interview at Mr. Wilks's, and the 
necessity of reading this persistent young 
man a stern lesson came to her with all the 
force of a public duty. 

"Why?" she inquired, softly, as she 
lowered her eyes and assumed a pensive 

" I admire him, for one thing, as a fine 
seaman," said Hardy. 

" Yes," said Miss' Nugent, "and " 

" And I've always had a great liking for 
Mrs. Kingdom," he continued ; " she was 
very good-natured to me when I was a very 
small boy, I remember. She is very kind 
and amiable." 

The baffled Miss Nugent stole a glance 

at him. IC And " she said again, very 


" And very motherly," said Hardy, without 
moving a muscle. 

Miss Nugent pondered and stole another 
glance at him. The expression of his face 
was ingenuous, not to say simple. She 
resolved to risk it. So far he had always 
won in their brief encounters, and monotony 
was always distasteful to her, especially 
monotony of that kind. 

" And what about me ? " she said, with a 
friendly smile. 

" You," said Hardy, with a gravity of voice 
belied by the amusement in his eye ; "you 
are the daughter of the fine seaman and the 
niece of the good-natured and motherly Mrs. 

Miss Nugent looked down again hastily, 
and all the shrew within her clamoured for 
vengeance. It was the same masterful Jem 
Hardy that had forced his way into their seat 
at church as a boy. If he went on in this 
way he would become unbearable ; she 
resolved, at the cost of much personal incon- 
venience, to give him a much-needed fall. 
But she realized quite clearly that it would be 
a matter of time. 

" Of course, you and Jack are already good 
friends?" she said, softly. 

"Very," assented Hardy. "Such good 
friends that I have been devoting a lot of 
time lately to considering ways and means of 
getting him out of the snares of the Kybirds." 

" I should have thought that that was his 
affair," said Miss Nugent, haughtily. 

" Mine, too," said Hardy. u I don't want 
him to marry Miss Kybird." 

For the first time since the engagement 
Miss Nugent almost approved of it. " Why 
not let him know your wishes?" she said, 
gently. " Surely that would be sufficient." 

Digitized by GGOgle 

" But you don't want them to marry ? " 
said Hardy, ignoring the remark. 

" I don't want my brother to do anything 
shabby," replied the girl ; " but I shouldn't 
be sorry, of course, if they did not." 

" Very good," said Hardy. " Armed with 
your consent I shall leave no stone unturned. 
Nugent was let in for this, and I am going to 
get him out if I can. All's fair in love and 
war. You don't mind my doing anything 
shabby ? " 

" Not in the least," replied Miss Nugent, 

The reappearance of Mrs. Kingdom at 
this moment saved Mr. Hardy the necessity 
of a reply. Conversation reverted to the miss- 
ing captain, and Hardy and Mrs. Kingdom 
together drew such a picture of the two 
captains fraternizing that Miss Nugent felt 
that the millennium itself could have no 
surprises for her. 

" He has improved very much," said Mrs. 
Kingdom, after the door had closed behind 
their visitor ; u so thoughtful." 

" He's thoughtful enough," agreed her 

" He is what I call extremely considerate," 
pursued the elder lady, "but I'm afraid he is 
weak ; anybody could turn him round their 
little finger." 

" I believe they could," said Miss Nugent, 
gazing at her with admiration, "if he wanted 
to be turned." 

The ice thus broken, Mr. Hardy spent the 
following day or two in devising plausible 
reasons for another visit. He found one in 
the person of Mr. Wilks, who, having been 
unsuccessful in finding his beloved master at 
a small tavern down by the London docks, 
had returned to Sunwich, by no means bene- 
fited by his change of air, to learn the 
terrible truth as to his disappearance from 

"I wish they'd Shanghaid me instead," he 
said to that sympathetic listener, " or Mrs. 

" Eh ? " said the other, staring. 

" Wot'Il be the end of it I don't know," 
said Mr. Wilks, laying a hand, which still 
trembled, on the other's knee. " It's got 
about that she saved my life by 'er careful 
nussing, and the way she shakes 'er 'ead at 
me for risking my valuable life, as she calls 
it, going up to London, gives me the shivers." 

" Nonsense," said Hardy ; " she can't 
marry you against your will. Just be dis- 
tantly civil to her." 

" 'Ow can you be distantly civil when she 
lives just opposite?" inquired the steward, 




querulously, u She sent Teddy over at ten 
o'clock last night to rub my client with a 
bottle o' liniment, and it's no good me say- 
ing I'm all right when she's been spending 
eigh teen-pence o' good money over the 

"She can't marry you unless you ask her," 
said the comforter. 

Mr. Wilks shook his head, " People in 
rhe alley are beginning to talk," he said t dole- 
fully. I4 Just as I came in this afternoon old 
George I^e screwed up one eye at two or 
three women wot was gossiping near, and 
when I ,-isked T im wot 'e'd got to wink about 
he said that a bit o J wedding-cake 'ad blosved 
in his eve as I passed. It sent them silly 
creel urs into fits a'most." 

an'-twenty years I sailed with the cap'n and 
served *im faithful, and this is my reward." 

Hardy pleaded his case next day. Miss 
Nugent was alone when he called, and, moved 
by the vivid picture he drew of the old man's 
loneliness, accorded her full forgiveness, and 
decided to pay him a visit at once. The fact 
that Hardy had not been in the house five 
minutes she appeared to have overlooked* 

" I'll go upstairs and put my hat and jacket 
on and go now," she said, brightly, 

"That's very kind of .you," said Hardy. 
His voice expressed admiring gratitude; but 
he made no sign of leaving his seat, 

"You don't mind?" said Miss Nugent, 
pausing in front of him and slightly extend- 
ing her hand. 

-- ~*~y^ — 


"They'll soon get tired of it," said Hardy. 

Mr. Wilks, still gloomy, ventured to doubt 
it, but cheered up and became almost 
bright when his visitor announced his inten- 
tion of trying to smooth over matters for 
him at Equator Lodge. He became quite 
voluble in his defence, and attached much 
importance to the fact that he had nursed 
Miss Nugent when she was in long clothes 
and had taught her to whistle like an angel 
at the age of five, 

14 I've felt being cut adrift by her more 
than anything," he said, brokenly, * E Nine- 

Digiiized by GoOglC 

" Not in the least," was the reply ; " but I 
want to see Wilks myself- Perhaps you'll 
let me walk down with you ? H 

The request was so unexpected that the 
girl had no refusal ready. She hesitated 
and was lost. Finally, she expressed a fear 
that she might keep him waiting too long 
while she got ready— a fear which he politely 
declined to consider. 

11 Well, we'll see," said the marvelling Miss 
Nugent to herself as she went slowly upstairs, 
" He's got impudence enough for forty, 17 

She commenced her preparations for 




seeing Mr. Wilks by wrapping a shawl 
round her shoulders and reclining in an 
easy-chair with a novel. It was a good story, 
but the room was very cold, and even the 
pleasure of snubbing an intrusive young man 
did not make amends for the lack of warmth. 
She read and shivered for an hour, and then 
with chilled fingers lit the gas and proceeded 
to array herself for the joumey. 

Her temper was not improved by seeing 
Mr. Hardy sitting in the dark over a good 
fire when she got downstairs. 

" I'm afraid IVe kept you waiting," she 
said, crisply. 

"Not at all," said Hardy. " I've been 
very comfortable." 

Miss Nugent repressed a shiver and, 
crossing to, the fire, thoughtlessly extended 
her fingers over the blaze. 

" I'm afraid you're cold," said Hardy. 

The girl looked round sharply. His face, 
or as much of it as she could see in the 
firelight, bore a look of honest concern 
somewhat at variance with the quality of his 
voice. If it had not been for the absurdity 
of altering her plans on his account she 
would have postponed her visit to the steward 
until another day. 

The walk to Fullalove Alley was all too 
short for Jem Hardy. Miss Nugent stepped 
along with the air of a martyr anxious to 
get to the stake and have it over, and she 
answered in monosyllables when her com- 
panion pointed out the beauties of the night. 
A bitter east wind blew up the road and set 
her yearning for the joys of Mr. Wilks's best 

" It's very cold," she said, shivering. 

Hardy assented, and reluctantly quickened 
his pace to keep step with hers. Miss 
Nugent with her chin sunk in a fur boa 
looked neither to the right nor the left, and 
turning briskly into the alley, turned the 
handle of Mr. Wilks's door and walked in, 
leaving her companion to follow. . 

The steward, who was smoking a long pipe 
over the fire, looked round in alarm. Then 
his expression changed, and he rose and 
stammered out a welcome. Two minutes 
later Miss Nugent, enthroned in the best 
chair with her toes en the fender, gave her 
faithful subject a free pardon and full 
permission to make hot coffee. 

" And don't you ever try and deceive me 
again, Sam," she said, as she sipped the 
comforting beverage. 

"No, miss," said the steward, humbly, 
" I've 'ad a lesson. I'll never try and 
Shanghai anybody else agin as long as I live." 

Digitiz >OglC 

After this virtuous sentiment he sat and 
smoked placidly, with occasional curious 
glances divided between his two visitors. 
An idle and ridiculous idea, which occurred 
to him in connection with them, was dis- 
missed at once as too preposterous for a 
sensible steward to entertain. 

" Mrs. Kingdom well ? " he inquired. 

" Quite well," said the girl. "If you take 
me home, Sam, you shall see her, and be 
forgiven by her, too." 

"Thankee, miss," said the gratified steward. 

" And what about your foot, Wilks ? " said 
Hardy, somewhat taken aback by this 

" Foot, sir ? " said the unconscious Mr. 
Wilks; "wot foot?" 

"Why, the bad one," said Hardy, with a 
significant glance. 

"Ho, that one?" said Mr. Wilks. beating 
time and waiting further revelations. 

" Do you think you ought to use it 
much ? " inquired Hardy. 

Mr. Wilks looked at it, or, to be more 
exact, looked at both of them, and smiled 
weakly. His previous idea recurred to him 
with renewed force now, and several things 
in the young man's behaviour, hitherto dis- 
regarded, became suddenly charged with 
significance. Miss Nugent looked on with 
an air of cynical interest. 

" Better not run any risk," said Hardy, 
gravely. " I shall be very pleased to see 
Miss Nugent home, if she will allow me." 

" What is the matter with it ? " inquired 
Miss Nugent, looking him full in the face. 

Hardy hesitated. Diplomacy, he told 
himself, was one thing ; lying another. He 
passed the question on to the rather badly- 
used Mr. Wilks. 

" Matter with it ? " repeated that gentle- 
man, glaring at him reproachfully. " It's 
got shootin' pains right up it. I suppose it 
was walking miles and miles every day in 
London, looking for the cap'n, was too much 
for it." 

" Is it too bad for you to take me home, 
Sam ? " inquired Miss Nugent, softly. 

The perturbed Mr. Wilks looked from one 
to the other. As a sportsman his sympathies 
were with Hardy, but his duty lay with the 

"I'll do my best, miss," he said ; and got 
up and limped, very well indeed for a first 
attempt, round the room. 

Then Miss Nugent did a thing which was 
a puzzle to herself for some time afterwards. 
Having won the victory she deliberately 
threw aw^j) r ^hfj-,fjpf^j^f it, and declining to 





allow the steward to run any risks, accepted 
Hardy's escort home, Mr. Wilks watched 
them from the door, and with his head in a 
whirl caused by the night's proceedings 
mixed himself a stiff glass of grog to set it 
right, and drank to the health of both of 

The wind had abated somewhat in violence 
as they walked home, and, moreover, they 
had their backs to it. The walk was slower 
and more enjoyable 
in many respects than 
the walk out. In an 
unusually soft mood 
she replied to his re- 
marks and slole little 
critical glances up at 
him. When they 
reached the house 
she stood a little 
while at the gate 
gazing at the starry 
sky and listening to 
the crush of the sea 
on the beach. 

■*It is a fine night," 
she said, as she shook 

"The best I have 
ever known, 7 ' said 
Hardy. "Good-bye/ 5 

The weeks passed all 
too quickly for James 
Hardy, He saw Kate 
Nugent at her own 
home; met her, 
thanks to the able 
and hearty assistance 
of Mr. Wilks, at Full- 
alove Alley, and 
on several occasions 
had the agreeable 
task of escorting her back home* 

He cabled to his father for news of the 
illustrious stowaway immediately the Con- 
queror was notified as having reached Port 
Elizabeth. The reply—"/*// ^/"—con- 
firmed his worst fears, but he cheerfully 
accepted Mrs. Kingdom's view that the 
captain, in order to relieve the natural 
anxiety of hit family, had secured a passage 
on the first vessel homeward bound. 

Captain Hardy was the first to reach 
home. In the early hours of a fine April 
morning the Conqueror steamed slowly into 
Sunwich Harbour, and in a very short time 
th:? town was revelling in a description of 

Digitized by LiOOglC 

Captain Nu^ent's first voyage before the 
mast from lips which were never tired of 
repeating it. Down by the waterside Mr. 
Nathan Smith found that he had suddenly 
attained the rank of a popular hero, and his 
modesty took alarm at the publicity afforded 
to his action* It was extremely distasteful 
to a man who ran a quiet business on old- 
fashioned lines and disbelieved in adver- 
tisement. He lost three lodgers the same 


Jem Hardy was one 
of the few people in 
Sunwich for whom the 
joke had no charms, 
and he betrayed such 
an utter lack of sym- 
pathy with his fathers 
recital that the latter 
accused him at last 
of wanting a sense of 

" I don't see any- 
thing nmusing in it," 
said his son, stiffly. 

Captain Hardy re- 
capitulated one or 
two choice points, 
and was even at some 
pains to explain them, 
"I can't see any 
fun in it," repeated 
his son. "Your be- 
haviour seems to me 
to have been deplor- 

"What?" shouted 
the captain, hardly 
able to believe his 

u Captain Nugent 
was your guest," pur- 
sued the other ; fi he 
got on your ship by 
accident, and he should have been treated 
decently as a saloon passenger.** 

14 And been apologized to for coming on 
board, I suppose?" suggested the captain. 

" It wouldn't have been amiss," was the 

The captain leaned hack in his chair 
and regarded him thoughtfully. u l can't 
think what's the matter with you, Jem," 
he said, 

" Ordinary decent ideas, that's all/ 1 said 
his son, scathingly. 

"There's something more in it than that," 
said the other, positively. I( I doivt like to 
see this love- you r-enemy business with you, 






Jem ; it ain't natural to you. Has your 
health been all right while I've been away ? " 

"Of course it has," said his son, curtly. 
" If you didn't want Captain Nugent aboard 
with you why didn't you put him ashore ? It 
wouldn't have delayed you long, Think of 
the worry and anxiety you've caused poor 
Mrs. Kingdom." 

" A holiday for her," growled the captain. 

" It has affected her health," continued 
his son ; "and besides, think of his daughter. 
She's a high-spirited girl, and all Sunwich Is 
laughing over her father's mishap," 

"Nugent fell into his own trap/' exclaimed 
the captain, impatiently* "And it won't do 
that girl of his any harm to be taken down a 
peg or two. Do her good. Knock some of 
the nonsense out of her." 

"That's not the way to speak of a lady," 
said Jem, hotly. 

The offended captain regarded him some- 
what sourly ; then his face changed, and he 
got up from his chair and stood before his 
son with consternation depicted on every 

"You don't mean to tell me," he said, 

Digitized byCjt 

slowly ; " you don't mean to tell me that 
you're thinking anything of Kate Nugent ? ' 

"Why not?" demanded the other, de- 
fiantly ; " why shouldn't I ? " 

Captain Hardy, whistling softly, made no 
reply, but still stood eyeing him. 

" I thought there was some other reason 
for your consideration besides ' ordinary 
decent ideas/ " he said, at last. " When did 
it come on ? How long have you had it ? " 

Mr. Hardy, jun,, in a studiously unfilial 
speech, intimated that these pleasantries 
were not to his taste. 

" No, of course not," said the captain, 
resuming his seaL " Well, I'm sorry if it's 
serious, Jem, but I never dreamt you had 
any ideas in that quarter. If I had i T d have 
given old Nugent the best bunk on the ship 
and sung him to sleep myself. Has she given 
you any encouragement ? " 

" Don't know," said Jem, who found the 
conversation awkward, 

" Extraordinary thing," said the captain, 
shaking his head, " extraordinary. Like a 




" Play," repeated his father, firmly. " What 

is the name of it ? I saw it once at New- 
castle. The lovers take poison and die across 

each other's chests because their people 

wont let 'em marry. And that reminds me. 

I saw some phosphor-paste in the kitchen, 

Jem. Whose is it ?" 

il I'm glad to be the means of affording 

you amusement/* said Jem, grinding his 


Captain Hardy regarded him affectionately. 

Mlo easy, my lad," he said, equably; "go 

easy- If I'd 

known it before, 

things would have 

been different ; as 

I didn't, we must 

make the best of 

it. She's a pretty 

girl, and a good 

one, too, for all 

her airs, but I'm 

afraid she's too 

fond of her father 

to overlook this." 
11 That's where 

you've made such 

a mess of things," 
broke in his son. 
■ Why on earth 
you two old men 

couldn't- " 

" Easy," said 
the startled cap- 
tain. u When you 
are in the early 
fifties, my lad, 
your ideas about 
age wilt be more 
accurate. Besides, 
Nugent is seven 
or eight years 
older than I am," 

" What became of him?" inquired Jem. 
u He was off the moment we berthed, 1 ' 
said his father, suppressing a smile. " I 
don't mean that he bolted — he'd got enough 
starch left in him not to do that — but he 
didn't trespass on our hospitality a moment 
longer than was necessary. I heard that he 
got a passage home on the Columbus* He 
knew the master. She sailed some time 
before us for London. I thought he'd have 
been home by this.' 1 

It was not until two days later, however, 
that the gossip in Sunwich received a 
pleasant fillip by the arrival of the injured 
captain. He came down from London by 
the midday train, and, disdaining the privacy 

of a cab, prepared to run the gauntlet of his 

A weaker man would have made a de'tour, 
hut he held a direct course, and with a curt 
nod to acquaintances who would have 
stopped him walked swiftly in the direction 
of home. Tradesmen ran to their shop- doors 
to see him, and smoking amphibians lounging 
at street comers broke out into sunny smiles 
as he passed. He met these annoyances with 
a set face and a cold eye, but his views 
concerning children were not improved by 


the crowd of small creatures which fluttered 
along the road ahead of him and, hopeful of 
developments, clustered round the gate as 
he passed in. 

It is the pride and privilege of most 
returned wanderers to hold forth at great 
length concerning their adventures, but 
Captain Nugent was commenclably brief. 
At first he could hardly be induced to speak 
of them at all, but the necessity of contra- 
dicting stories which Bella had gleaned for 
Mrs. Kingdom from friends in town proved 
too strong for him. He ground his teeth 
with suppressed fury as he listened to some 
of them. The truth was bad enough, and 
his daughten^^^ff^^his side with her 




hand in his, was trembling with indigna- 

" Poor father," she said, tenderly ; " what a 
time you must have had." 

" It won't bear thinking of," said Mrs. 
Kingdom, not to be outdone in sympathy. 

" Well, don't think of it," said the captain, 

Mrs. Kingdom sighed as though to indi- 
cate that her feelings were not to be 
suppressed in that simple fashion. 

"The anxiety has been very great," she 
said, shaking her head, " but everybody's 
been very kind. I'm sure all our friends 
have been most sympathetic. I couldn't go 
outside the house without somebody stopping 
me and asking whether there was any news 
of you. I'd no idea you were so popular ; 
even the milkman " 

"I'd like some tea," interrupted the 
captain, roughly ; " that is, when you have 
finished your very interesting informa- 

Mrs. Kingdom pursed her lips together to 
suppress the words she was afraid to utter, 
and rang the bell. 

" Your master would like some tea," she 
said, primly, as Bella appeared. "He has 
had a long journey." 

The captain started and eyed her fiercely ; 
Mrs. Kingdom, her good temper quite 
restored by this little retort, folded : her 
hands in her lap and gazed at him with 
renewed sympathy. 

" We all missed you very much," said 
Kate, softly. " But we had no fears once we 
knew that you were at sea." 

" And I suppose some of the sailors were 
kind to you ? " suggested the unfortunate Mrs. 
Kingdom. " They are rough fellows, but I 
suppose some of them have got their hearts 
in the right place. I daresay they were sorry 
to see you in such a position." 

The captain's reply was of a nature known 
to Mrs. Kingdom and her circle as "snap- 
ping one's head off." He drew his chair to 
the table as Bella brought in the tray and, 
accepting a cup of tea, began to discuss with 
his daughter the events which had transpired 
in his absence. 

" There is no news," interposed Mrs. 
Kingdom, during an interval. "Mr. Hall's 
aunt died the other day." 

" Never heard of her," said the captain. 

" Neither had I, till then," said his sister. 

" What a lot of people there are one neve? 
hears of, John." 

The captain stared at' her offensively and 
went on with his meal. A long silence 

"I suppose you didn't get to hear of the 
cable that was sent? "said Mrs. Kingdom, 
making another effort to arouse interest. 

" What cable ? " inquired her brother. 

" The one Mr. Hardy sent to his father 
about you," replied Mrs. Kingdom. 

The captain pushed his chair back and 
stared her full in the face. " What do you 
mean ? " he demanded. 

His sister explained. 

" Do you mean to tell me that you've been 
speaking to young Hardy?" exclaimed the 

" I could hardly help doing so, when he 
came here," returned his sister, with dignity. 
" He has been very anxious about you." 

Captain Nugent rose and strode up and 
down the room. Then he stopped and 
glanced sharply at his daughter. 

" Were you here when he called ? " he 

" Yes," was the reply. 

" And you — you spoke to him ? " roared 
the captain. 

"I had to be civil," said Miss Nugent, 
calmly ; " I'm not a sea-captain." 

Her father walked up and down the room 
again. Mrs. Kingdom, terrified at the storm 
she had evoked, gazed helplessly at her niece. 

" What did he come here for ? " said the 

Miss Nugent glanced down at her plate. 
" I can't imagine," she said, demurely. "The 
first time he came to tell us what had 
become of you." 

The captain stopped in his walk and eyed 
her sternly. " I am very fortunate in my 
children," he said, slowly. " One is engaged 
to marry the daughter of the shadiest rascal 
in Sunwich, and the other " 

" And the other ? " said his daughter, 
proudly, as he paused. 

"The other," said the captain, as he came 
round the table and put his hand on her 
shoulder, " is my dear and obedient 

" Yes," said Miss Nugent ; " but that isn't 
what you were going to say. You need not 
worry about me ; I shall not do anything 
that would displease you." 

(To be continued.) 

by Google 

Original from 


A Storv for Children. 

By Margaret Maitland. 

NCE upon a time a King, on 
his death-bed, sent for his two 
sons and said to them : " My 
sons* promise me one thing 
before I die. Your sister, 
whom you have never seen, is 
shut up in a tower, and you must promise 
never to let her out of it. The day she was 
horn your mother and I put her there, 
because we were warned she would bring 
trouble on her brothers." 

But, having said this, the King died so - 
quickly that his sons had no time to promise 
him anything. And directly he died all the 
great men in the kingdom assembled round 
the new King and put the crown on his 
head, and clothed him in the Royal purple 
mantle sparkling with diamond stars and 
moons and suns, and cried, "Long live our 

No sooner was this ceremony ended than 
the two brothers, who were in the greatest 
hurry to see their sister, ran to the tower, 

which had neither door nor stairs, so they 
jumped into the big basket fastened to a 
pulley, in which provisions were hoisted up, 
and went straight to the Princess Rosetta's 
chamber, She and her little dog Fretillo 
were sitting there, and the Princess was 
embroidering a beautiful brocade, but she 
threw down her work the moment she saw 
the King in his Royal robes and crown, 
and, falling at his feet, besought him to let 
her out of her prison. 

"That's just what we've come here for," 
cried both the brothers together "We are 
going to take you away with us and find you 
a husband and make you happy [or ever," 

And though there was very little room in 
the big basket for a King in his Royal mantle 
and a Prince and Princess and a little dog as 
well,, they all loved each other too much 
already to bear parting, even for a few 
minutes, so somehow or other they squeezed 
in and went down all together. 

The tower umlJflil Hiftn^arden, and when 




the Princess saw flowers and fruit and foun- 
tains, for the first time in her life, she was 
delighted, and ran hither and thither picking 
things and playing with Fretillo, who barked 
and frisked round her as happy as she was. 
He was a very odd-looking little dog, for he 
was green and had only one ear, but he was 
so clever and good-tempered that no one 
could help loving him.. 

Presently he ran ahead of his mistress into 
a wood, and she went after him, and there 
she saw a peacock with his tail spread out in 
a huge circle behind him. And he was so 
handsome that she stood stock-still looking 
at him until her brothers found her, and 
then she pointed at the peacock and said : — 

"What is it?" 

" A peacock," they answered ; "a bird that 
is served at Royal tables on great feast days." 

" What," cried Rosetta, " people are wicked 
enough to kill — to eat such a creature? I 
for my part vow that I will have no husband 
but the King of the Peacocks, and he shall 
pass a law that he who kills or eats a pea- 
cock shall die ! " 

"But, dearest sister," said her brothers, 
" where shall we go to find you such a 
husband ? We know neither who he is nor 
where he lives." 

The Princess did not know either ; so she 
said : "All that kind of thing I leave entirely 
to your Majesty. But I will marry no one 

Then the Princes and their sister and 
Fretillo and the peacock (whom Rosetta 
refused to leave) all went to the palace, and 
the peacock and Fretillo had quarters in the 
Princess's own room. 

All the Court came, of course, to pay her 
their respects, and the great ladies brought 
her sugar-plums and tarts and gowns and 
ribbons, and shoes embroidered with precious 
stones ; and her manners to everyone were 
so gracious, and she curtsied so politely when 
thanking people, that the whole kingdom 
rang with her praises. 

But all this time her poor brothers were in 
great trouble, not knowing in the very least 
where to turn their steps to find the King of 
the Peacocks. But they agreed that the first 
thing to do was to have Rosetta's portrait 
painted to take with them, and the artist 
made such a perfect picture of her, that could 
it but have talked it would have been the 
Princess herself. 

"Good-bye, sister," they said to her; "since 
you will have no husband but the King of 
the Peacocks, we will travel all over the world 
to look for him. If we find him it will make 

us very glad, and meantime you must govern 
the kingdom well." 

Rosetta thanked them and promised to do 
what they asked, and said that her only 
pleasure, while they were away, would be in 
looking at her peacock and playing with 

The two Princes asked everyone they met 
the same question : " Can you tell us where 
His Majesty the King of the Peacocks lives ? " 
And everyone answered " No, no." So on 
and on they travelled until, at last, they got 
so far away that never had anyone been so 
far before. 

And one fine day they came to the king- 
dom of cockchafers, where there were shoals 
and shoals of cockchafers, all buzzing, and 
buzzing, and making such a noise that the 
poor King nearly went deaf. But one cock- 
chafer looked rather wiser than the rest, and 
him the King asked if he could tell him 
where to find the King of the Peacocks. 

" Sire," said the cockchafer, " his kingdom 
is thirty thousand miles from here, and you 
have, unfortunately, come a roundabout way 
to look for it." 

" And how do you know that ?" asked His 

" Because we know your Majesty very well 
indeed," said the cockchafer. " Every year 
we pay your gardens a visit, and spend three 
or four months there." 

On hearing this the King and his brother 
felt, at once, that they were among old 
friends, and they made themselves quite at 
home with the company and visited all the 
sights of the kingdom. The smallest little 
leaf is a curiosity there and worth a great 
deal of money. 

The two Princes now knew the direction 
to take, so they started on their travels again 
in much better spirits, and it was not so very 
long before they found the country they were 
looking for. They knew, at once, that it 
was the right place, because on every branch 
of every tree was perched a peacock, and 
for miles round they could be heard calling 
-and screaming to one another. 

"What shall we do, brother," said the 
King, " if His Majesty turns out to be a pea- 
cock himself? Our sister cannot possibly 
marry him in that case ! " 

The Prince was quite as much troubled 
as his brother by this dreadful idea. 

"It is most unfortunate," he replied, "that 
she ever took this strange fancy into her 
head. I can't imagine how she could ever 
have guessed that there was any such a King 
in the world:ft]N 




But when they arrived at the chief town 
in the kingdom they found the inhabitants 
were real tpen and women, just like other 
people, but all dressed in peacock feathers, 
and wherever peacock feathers could be 
stuck for ornament, there they were. 

The King himself the Princes met, driving 
in his golden chariot studded with brilliants, 
and drawn by twelve magnificent and very 
fleet peacocks ; and he was so handsome that 
they were delighted with him. His hair was 
fair and curly and his complexion like white 
marble, and on his head he wore a crown of 
woven peacock feathers. 

He saw the Princes, and knowing by their 

picture is the portrait of our sister, the 
Princess Rosetta, We have travelled all the 
way to your kingdom to ask you if you 
would like to marry her. She is good as 
well as beautiful, and we will give her a sack 
full of gold for her dowry," 

11 Very well," said the King of the Pea- 
cocks. " I am quite willing to marry her. I 
love her very much, indeed, and will give her 
everything she wants. But 1 am determined 
you shall not cheat me about her beauty, and 
I warn you that, if in the very least thing she 
is less beautiful than her portrait, I will have 
you both put to death. Do you agree? " 
11 Oh, yes," said the Princes, " we gladly 

u Go to prison, then, at once," 
said the King, " and stay there 
until the Princess arrives," 

dress that they were stran- 
gers he stopped his chariot 
and beckoned to them to 
come and talk to him. 

" Sire," said the brothers, 
" we have travelled far to 
show your Majesty a pic- 

And with that they took 
Rosetta's portrait out of 
their carpet-bag. 

The King looked at it 
for a good long time, then 
said : 4i I don't believe 
there is a girl so beautiful 
in the whole world." 

41 Ah, your Majesty," they answered, "she 
is a hundred times lovelier than this picture." 

"You are making fun of me," said the 
King of the Peacocks, 

"Sire," said the Prince, "my brother here 
is a King like you, and I a Prince, This 

Dioilized bv vjj 


The two Princes didn't mind this in the 
least, because they knew for certain that 
Rosetta was far more beautiful than any 
picture, and every day the King came to visit 
them and sent them all they wanted, and they 
were waited en us became their high rank. 




They wrote to Rosetta and told her to pack 
her things and come at once, because the 
husband she had chosen was waiting for her. 
Only they said nothing to her about being 
themselves in prison for fear of alarming her 

Rosetta was in great delight when she got 
this letter, and lost no time in announcing to 
all the King's subjects that the King of the 
Peacocks was found and was very anxious to 
marry her. 

There were great rejoicings all over the 
kingdom at this good news, and for a few 
days there was nothing but feasting and 
dancing and firing of cannons ; and at the 
palace itself, by order of the Princess, the 
most delicious drinks and sweetmeats were 
given to all comers. And as she was going 
to be married, and wouldn't want her dolls 
and playthings any longer herself, she gave 
them all away in the most generous manner. 

Besides which she handed the government 
of the country over to the six wisest men 
in it, charging them to take great care of 
it ind spend as little and save as much as 
they could, for her brother when he came 
back. She also left her peacock in their 
care and took only Fretillo and the sack of 
gold and her old nurse and the nurse's only 
daughter and enough dresses for two changes 
every day for ten years. 

The journey was made in a ship, and the 
Princess enjoyed it very much, laughing and 
talking and amusing herself all the day long. 

But every morning the nurse used to say 
to the boatman, " Are we nearly there ? " 

And he always answered, " Not yet, not 

Till, at last, one day he said, u Yes, soon 
now, soon." 

And then the nurse put her mouth close 
to his ear and said, " Do you wish to be 
rjch ? " 

"Yes," said he. 

u There's money to earn," said she. 

" I'm the man for that," said he. 

"Then to-night," said she, " we will throw 
the Princess overboard, and when she is 
drowned I will dress my daughter in her fine 
clothes and take her to the King of the Pea- 
cocks to be his bride. And for your reward 
you shall have as many diamonds as you 
can carry away on your back." 

The boatman was not quite so wicked as 
she was, however, and he answered that it 
would be a pity to drown such a pretty 
Princess ; and he certainly never would have 
consented to such a thing if the cruel nurse 
hadn't given him a drink of some kind that 
had a very good taste, but made him feel so 

queer that at last he didn't know when he 
was saying yes and when he was saying no. 

And then she led him to where the 
Princess lay asleep in her bed, and Fretillo 
curled up at her feet, sound asleep, too. And 
the cruel pair lifted up the feather-bed, the 
mattress, the sheets, the quilt, the pillows, 
Rosetta, and Fretillo so softly that neither 
the Princess nor her little dog woke, and 
threw the whole thing overboard. 

But, most fortunately, the bed was stuffed 
with Phtenix feathers, which are very rare, 
indeed, and never sink ; so the bed floated, 
and Rosetta and Fretillo were as safe as if 
they still were on the ship. 

The only thing was that the spray of the 
waves kept dashing over them and at last 
woke them up, and then they couldn't 
imagine what made them so wet, nor where 
they were, nor what had happened to them. 
Fretillo, whose nose was very sharp, smelt 
soles and cod, and he barked so loud that he 
disturbed all the fishes in the sea, and they 
kept tumbling up against the bed, sending it 
twisting and turning this way and that, in such 
an extraordinary manner, that Rosetta thought 
she had never spent such a queer night in 
her life, for being dark she didn't see the sea. 

The cruel nurse heard the barking too and 
said : " He's wishing us good luck. Let us 
hasten to go and be Queens and Princes." 

Soon after that the boat landed at the 
kingdom of peacocks, where fine prepara- 
tions had been made for the bride's arrival. 

A hundred carriages were waiting on the 
beach drawn by lions, bears, wolves, oxen, 
asses, eagles, peacocks, and horses. The 
Princess's own carriage was drawn by six blue 
monkeys in crimson and gold harness, and 
dancing all the time on tight-ropes, besides 
many other wonderful tricks. Round this 
carriage stood sixty lovely young ladies, chosen 
by the King himself to wait on his Queen, 
and dressed in every colour of the rainbow, 
not to speak of gold and silver. 

The wicked nurse had spared no pains in 
dressing up her daughter. She had Rosetta's 
diamonds on her head and all over her, and 
wore the very finest of all Rosetta 's seven 
thousand three hundred dresses. But her 
finery only made her look uglier than ever. 
Her hair was dull and coarse, she squinted 
terribly ; she had bandy legs and was hump- 
hacked, and had a nasty cross expression, 
and never stopped grumbling. 

When the King of the Peacocks' people 
saw her land from the ship they were struck 
dumb with amazement, and they were still 
more astonished (if ihat were possible) when 




* v 


Nt>K HKK LI I'llK 

the first thing they heard her say, screaming 
as bud as she could, was this :— r 

"Who! does this kind of thing mean? 
Nhat does tt mean ? Have you at) lost your 
senses? Here, wretches, bring me some- 
thing to eat or I'll have everyone of you 

"Oh, oh, oh/' cried everybody, "what a 
horrid creature, as wicked too as she is 

35 *■ is 

ugly ! Never will 
our King marry a 
horrid thing of this 
sort ! It was worth 
while to send to the 
end of the world for 
her, indeed!' 5 

And everything 
they said madu her 
angrier and angrier, 
and everyone within 
reach of her arm 
she hit at with her 
fist, as hard as she 
could, lolling back 
all the time in her 
carriage and making 
believe she was 
accustomed to one. 
It moved along 
rather slowly, as 
orders had been 
given by the King 
that the people were 
all to have time to 
see the bride. But 
when it passed 
under the trees, 
covered with pea- 
cocks, waiting to 
cry, " I-ong live our 
hcautiful Queen 
Rosetta ! " instead 
of crying what they 
intended, they all 
began to hiss; 
" Oh ! the ugly T ugly 
thing ! " 

"Kill them," 

shrieked the fa be 

Princess. " Kill 

them ! Wring their 

necks, the beasts ! 

• They insult me, 

insult me ! " 

At which the peacocks flew away as quick 

as they could, laughing at her. 

Meantime the wicked boatman whispered to 
the nurse: "I say, mother, we haven't managed 
this affair so cleverly as we should. You ought 
to have had a prettier daughter for it ! " 

" Hush, hush, you fool," she answered. 
u Hold your tongue if you don't want to get 
us all into trouble. 33 

Messengers bad run on ahead of the pro- 
cession to warn the King that his bride was 
coming, and the first thing he said to them 
was : " Did her brothers speak the truth ? Is 
she more beau t if u! r^an he» picture? fl 




" What ! what ! " he 
cried, " those two scoun- 
drels that I have locked 
safe up in prison have 
dared to play me a trick ? 
They had the imperti- 
to invite me to 
a horror of this 
Til have their necks 
and this wretch's, 



% - i. m HX 

'* Sire," was the reply, " to be as beautiful, 
is to be beautiful enough," 

<( That is true/* said the King ; " I will be 
satisfied with that But I hear a noise in the 
courtyard. The Princess has no doubt 
arrived ; let us go and welcome her." 

There was plenty of shouting and talking. 
The King could hear the people saying : 
" Oh, the ugly thing," and words of that sort> 
but he only thought they were laughing at 
the Princess's dwarf, or some other queer 
creature she had brought with her ; for, of 
course, he never dreamt that it was the 
Princess herself they meant. 

The Princess Rosetta's portrait, mounted 
on a long gold stick and carried like a 
banner, was borne in front of the King, and 
he marched in a dignified manner after it, 
followed by all his barons, all his peacocks, 
and all the Ambassadors from foreign lands. 
He was very impatient, indeed, to see his 
beloved Rosetta ; but when he saw the 
creature that was there in her place he nearly 
died of grief and rage. He tore his clothes, 
he stamped his feet, he would not go near 
her, and she was frightened out of her senses 
at seeing him in such a passion. 


too, and her nurse's, and the old fellow's who 
came with them ! Clap every one of them 
into the darkest dungeon at the foot of the 
tower this moment," he said, turning to his 

Meantime, the real Princess's two brothers 
in prison, having heard that their sister had 
come, were waiting, dressed in their very 
best, to be released. But instead of letting 
them out their gaoler came with a troop of 
armed soldiers and thrust them down into a 
dark cellar, full of noisome reptiles and with 
water in it up to their necks, 

The poor Princes were terribly astonished 
at this cruel treatment. 

" Alas ! " they said to each other, " what a 
wedding feast we are celebrating. What can 
be the reason we are treated so ill ? " 

But all the talking in the world didn't 
explain anything. On the third day, however, 
the King of the Peacocks came and called 
out very insulting things at them through a 

u Wretches ! " he cried. '* Impostors ! King 
and Prince indeed ! Beggars is really what you 
are ! You thought you'd trick me into marry- 
ing your sister, did you ? You will be hanged 




for it — the rope is being spun to do it with. 
Your trial won't take long with the judges I 
mean to give you ! " 

44 King of the Peacocks," said the other 
King, very angry in his turn, " take care what 
you do to us, or you'll live to repent. I'm 
as good a King as you are, and have as good 
a crown and kingdom and clothes and 
money. Hang us, indeed ! What for, if 
you please ? Have we stolen anything from 
you ? " 

But in spite of all they could say the trial 
took place next day, and the King and his 
brother were sentenced to be hanged for 
telling the King of the Peacocks a lie. But 
when this sentence was read out to them 
they said so convincingly that they had told 
no lie, and begged so earnestly for a short 
delay to give them time to prove their 
innocence, that at last the King of the 
Peacocks consented to a week's respite. 

To return now to the Princess Rosetta. 
When daylight came she and her little dog were 
one as much surprised as the other to find 
that they were afloat on the wide sea, but it 
was the Princess who was the most frightened, 
for Fretillo always had a plan or two up his 

44 Alas ! alas ! " cried Rosetta. " The King 
of the Peacocks must have sent orders that I 
should be drowned. He has changed his 
mind, and doesn't want to marry me now. 
But what a pity ! what a pity ! I should have 
been a good wife to him, I promise him." 

Two whole days they floated on the sea, 
hungry and drenched to the skin, and so cold 
that the Princess must have died if Fretillo 
had not lain in her arms and warmed her as 
best he could. The only food they had 
were oysters, which Fretillo particularly dis- 

All night the Princess kept saying to him, 
" Bark, hark, my little dog, to keep the big 
fish away, or else they will come and swallow 
us up." 

So all night long Fretillo barked, until at 
last an old fisherman in his cottage by the 
sea-shore heard him, and put his head out to 
see what it was, for no one ever passed that 
way and he never heard dogs barking. And 
when he saw the bed floating near the shore 
he got his long boat-hook and drew it up 
on the beach high and dry. 

" Good man," said the Princess, " we have 
been two days floating hither and thither on 
the ocean, cold, and hungry, and wet. Can 
you give us something to eat and let us dry 
ourselves by your fire ? " 

And he took them into his cottage and, 

being a kind old man, did the best he could 
for them. And when he began to dry the 
mattress and feather-bed he saw that the 
sheets were the finest lawn and the coverlids 
made of gold and silver thread, and he knew 
that Rosetta must be some great lady by that 
and her manners, so he begged her to tell 
him her history. And when, with many tears, 
she had told him, he said to hex : — 

44 Princess, you are accustomed to delicate 
food and beautiful clothes, and can't live in 
this poor hut with a rough old man like me. 
With your permission I will go and tell the 
King of the Peacocks that you are here, and 
he will hasten to come for you and marry 

" No, no," said Rosetta, " he will kill me 
rather. And, as for food, all we need do is 
to tie a basket to my little dog's neck and he 
will be sure to bring it back full" 

And the old man gave her a basket, and, 
tying it to her little dog's neck, she said : — 

44 Go to the best kitchen in the city, 
Fretillo, and bring me what you find there." 

Now, in all the city there was no kitchen 
so good as the King's, so Fretillo hastened 
there, lifted the lid off the pot, and slipped 
all that was in it into his basket, and hurried 
home again. 

And his mistress said to him : 44 You are 
a good dog, Fretillo. But hurry back now 
to the store-room and bring me the best you 
find there." 

So off went Fretillo, and brought home 
some white bread, some muscat wine, and 
such a load of sweet things that he could 
hardly carry his basket. 

But when the King's dinner hour arrived 
there was no dinner in his kitchen and 
nothing in his store-room, and he fell into a 
great rage. 

44 If I can have no dinner," he said, " I 
will have a good supper at any rate, so put 
plenty of joints on the spit." That night, 
however, Rosetta said to her little dog : " Go 
to the best kitchen in the city and bring me 
all the roast meat you find there." 

And again Fretillo went to the King's 
kitchen, and when the cooks were not look- 
ing that way, he snatched the roast meat off 
the spits and ran off with it. It smelt so 
good it was enough to make anyone hungry. 
And, as before, the Princess sent him 
straight back to the store-room, and he 
brought her all the preserves and sugar- 
plums he found there. 

So that day the King of the Peacocks got 
neither dinner nor supper, and the same 
thing happened three days running, until at 


I 12 


last his best friend thought, if that sort of 
thing went on much longer, the King would 
die, so he went himself to watch in the 
kitchen what became of all his Royal 
master's dinners and suppers. What was 
his astonishment to see a little green one- 
eared dog softly steal in and lift the lid of 
the pot, take out what was in it, and run off 
with it in a basket ! He followed him as fast 
as he could to see where he took it, and on 
and on he went, away out of the town to the 
fisherman's hut on the beach. And after that 
he went and told the King all he had seen. 

And the King commanded him to take 
soldiers and go at once and seize the old 
man whose dog stole his dinners and 
suppers and robbed his store-room. And 
when the courtier and the soldiers came to 
the hut and found the fisherman, Rosetta, 
and Fretillo eating up the King's soup^ they 
laid hold of them, bound them with cords t 
and dragged them away. 

"They shall all be put to death to-morrow," 
said the King t "together with the two 
impostors who have 
not proved their inno- 
cence in the seven 
days' respite they 
begged for," 

But the old fisher- 
man cast himself on 
his knees before the 
King and asked leave 
to tell his story. 
And when he had 
told him everything 
and that the Princess 
he had fished out of 
the sea was none 
other than the Prin- 
cess Rosetta, the 
King was so glad 
that, weak as 
he was aftei 
his three 
days' fast, he 
gave three 
jumps into 
the air, and 
then ran to 
kiss Rosetta and cut 
the cords that bound 
her, and told her he 
loved her with all his 

TIumi the Prin- 
cess's brothers were 
sent for, and, expect- 

ing to be hanged, they came looking very 
miserable. The nurse, the boatman, and 
the daughter were sent for. And everyone 
recognised one another, of course. 

The Princess embraced her dear brothers. 
The nurse, her daughter, and the boatman 
fell on their knees and begged to be forgiven, 
and in A on our of the joyful occasion their 
lives were spared at Rosetta's request. As 
to the kind old fisherman, he spent the rest 
of his days in peace and happiness in the 

And for the Princess's brothers, the King 
seemed as if he didn't know how to do 
enough to make up to them frfr his former 
unkind ness. Of course, the Princess got 
back the sack of gold and The seven thousand 
three hundred dresses that the nurse had 
stolen ; and the wedding festivities took place 
with great rejoicing and lasted a whole fort- 
night, and everyone was happy ever after, not 
forgetting Fretillo, who had roast partridge 
wings and breast for his dinner every day all 
the rest of his life. 


by Google 

Original from 

Nearly Roasted Alive in the Great Chandelier of 

Dntry Lane. 

By Rudolph de Cordova, 

RING of flaring gas beneath 
his feet ; a ring of flaring gas 
above his head ; and between 
the two, a boy holding on to 
the framework of the great 
chandelier in the centre of the 
ceiling of Drury I.arce Theatre ! Into his 
nostrils he breathed the fumes of noxious 
gas ; in his hands the iron rods by which he 
supported himself grew hotter and hotter; 
and between him and the floor of the pit 
benoath lay a sheer drop of seventy feet of 
darkness! No rnelodramatist seeking for a 
blood-curdling situation ever devised such a 
scene. No novelist ever 
imagined the possibility 
of placing a character in 
such a position. Yet 
it is true, absolutely 
true ; evolved by circum- 
stances in the simplest 
and most direct manner 
in the world. 

As every great sensa- 
tion scene should, it had 
a happy ending, for Mr. 
Frank Parker, Equestrian 
and Stage Director of the 
London Hippodrome, 
was once the hero — or 
should I say the victim ? 
— of this situation which 
seemed to have only one 
possible termination- 

To-day the great audi- 
torium of Drury Lane is 
lighted, like the stage, by 
means of electricity, and the turning of a 
switch makes the whole building ablaze with 
light or plunges it into complete darkness. 
Under the early regime of the late Sir Augustus 
Harris, however, things were quite different, 
for electricity had not been introduced, and 
gas was the only means of illumination. 
Even then, however, instead of having a pilot 
light by means of which all the burners were 
lighted rapidly, the work was done by hand, 
each burner having to be lighted separately. 

In those days Mr, Frank Parker, then a 
mere lad, was made gas- boy, and part of his 
duty was to light the great chandelier in the 
middle of the ceiling. The audience naturally 
paid no heed to the massive structure of iron 

Vol. Jtxiii.— 16* 

and glass which illuminated the building, and 
it will probably surprise those who recall its 
appearance^ through the illustration, to know 
that even in his most expert days it took 
Mr, Parker no less than an hour and three- 
quarters to light it. 

In order that the situation may be the 
better understood, let me first, like a 
dramatist, describe the scene in which the 
great sensation is to be performed* 

Suspended from strong steel chains was. 
the chandelier, some 12ft. or 14ft. long, with 
a diameter at the widest part near the bottom 
of 1 6ft. or r8fL At the top near the point 
of suspension there was 
a narrow opening, per- 
haps 2 ft. across, through 
which the pipes for con- 

veying the 

to the 


K — PHESKNT 1>A7. 

burners passed. 

Even to reach the 
chandelier was a task 
not unattended with 
danger. The way was 
up through the flies, over 
the " gridiron " of the 
stage, a narrow trellis- 
work of iron. There* 
until the gas was lighted, 
it was always pitch dark, 
and the boy had to feel 
rather than see his way, 
for the only light he had 
was a spirit torch he 
carried. This threw a 
ghostly glimmer rather 
than a light around him, 
and revealed the masks 
of hideous demons which had been used 
in previous pantomimes, and were stored 
along the path by which he had to go. 

" Very ghostly and rather terrifying did 
those masks often appear to my childish imagi- 
nation as in the dead silence of the theatre I 
slowly made my way along the gridiron, the 
green light of my spirit torch just serving 
to bring out the suggestion of horrible, grin- 
ning faces and demoniacal expressions/' said 
Mr. Parker to me as he recounted his adven- 
ture one day. 

Arrived over the chandelier there w T as first 
a sort of well to go down* This was placed 
above the cowl, for ventilating purposes, and 
there was an opening some 6ft. in diameter 




down a Jacobs ladder to a grating shaped 
like a gigantic H + On this the boy, armed 
with a rod 23ft. long, used to take his 
stand night after night At the end of the 
rod was a sponge, which was dipped in 
methylated spirit, and by the slow process 
of touching each burner with the flaming 
spirit the chandelier was gradually lighted. 

* ( If ever when you're lighting the chande- 
lier, Frank, a piece of the glass festoon should 
happen to break," said the gas-man, giving 
the boy instructions when he first took up 
the work, "you have got to break it off 
somehow and let it drop into the pit. That 
must be done at any cost, for 
if you don't, and the heat 
makes the copper wire that 
joins the bits of glass break, 
the broken swag will fall on 
the people sitting in the pit 
and it may kill somebody/' 

One night, after lighting 
all the thirteen or fourteen 
baskets around the widest 
diameter of the chandelier, 
the rod got caught in one 
of the longest swags of glass, 
and, in trying to get it clear, 
the force the boy used broke 
one of the connecting pieces 
of copper wire, and in another moment the 
lower end attached to a point at the extreme 
circumference of the chandelier was hanging 
suspended over the pit* 

Remembering his instructions, the boy set 
to work with a will to break it off. Try as he 
would, however, he could not succeed. 

11 If ever a piece of the glass breaks youVe 
got to get it off somehow," were the words 
which ran through his mind. That was his 
duty ; that was the thing he had to do. With- 
out another thought he made up bis mind 
how to do the thing. He must climb down 
into the chandelier, supporting himself against 
the framework and the pipes until he reached 
the broken chain, twist it off, and let it drop 
into the pit, then climb back and set to work 
again in order that the chandelier might be 
lighted by the time the doors were opened. 

No sooner was the plan conceived than he 
began to put il into execution. He pulled up 
the long pole, set it on one side, and started 
to climb down into the chandelier. A broad- 
shouldered lad, he had to squeeze himself 
through the upper opening of the chandelier, 
round which was set a circle of burners in 
order to produce the upward draught to carry 
off the noxious fumes produced by the burning 
gas, He had his little lighted hand-torch in 



From a Photo, 

his hand, and, not thinking for the moment 
what he was doing, be, inadvertently, in 
climbing through the aperture, turned on the 
cock which allowed the gas to escape into 
the sun-burner. As he went through, his 
torch lighted the gas of one of the tubes. 
In another moment the flame bad run round 
the rest, and there was a circle of lighted gas 
that effectually barred the possibility of 

Intent on what he had to do, however, the 
boy did not notice this. 

Slowly, carefully, gradually, without a 
thought of the danger he was running, he 
made his way from stay to 
stay, from bar to bar, until he 
came to the bottom of the 
chandelier. The hot air from 
the flaring burners beat up 
into his face ; the noxious 
fumes of the consumed gas 
he breathed into his nostrils. 
He took no heed of them. 
He had his work to do. 

Slowly, catefully, gradually, 
he made his way across the 
whole diameter of the chande- 
lier. Steadying himself on 
two stays with his feet t and 
holding on to one bar with 
his left hand, he twisted round the long 
festoon of glass until at last he broke the 
connecting copper wire and the swag dropped 
down. There was a pause, and up through 
the silence came the clatter of the glass as 
it fell on to the floor beneath. 

" It's all right," said the boy to himself, 
and he turned to retrace his steps. 

Slowly, carefully, gradually, without a 
thought except for the work he had to do, 
he began to climb back to the grated plat- 
form from which he had descended, The 
hot air from the flaring burners beat up into 
his face ; the noxious fumes of the consumed 
gas he breathed into his nostrils. He took 
no heed of them. He had his work to do. 

As he climbed, he felt the iron bars get 
hot beneath his hands. He looked down 
and saw the blazing ring of fire beneath his 
feet. He looked up and saw the blazing 
ring of fire above his head. 

In an instant he realized his position. He 
was trapped. To attempt to escape through 
the narrow circle of fire was impossible, for 
even when the gas was not alight he had had 
a difficulty in getting through. The flare did 
its duty well. The ventilation was perfect, 
and a continuous stream of hot, vitiated air 
swept past the bey to make its escape through 



1J 5 

the little ring of flame. Each breath he drew 
took fresh poison into his lungs, each second 
he remained his position became more un- 
bearable, The fumes of the gas began to 
overpower him. There was a choking sensa- 
tion in his throat. There was a bursting 
sensation in his head. Unless help came, and 
quickly, there was only one way out of the 
chandelier — the drop through the darkness 
into the pit 70ft. beneath. And then 

u Help, help, help! " the boy screamed, with 
all his might, holding on with a grim tenacity 
of purpose to 
the iron stays 

Luckily for 
him the master 
gas-man was on 
the stage be- 
neath, looking 
every now and 
then through a 
hole in the wall 
of the pro- 
scenium to see 
how the lighting 
of the theatre 
was progressing. 

Suddenly he 
noticed that 
though the bas- 
kets were lighted 
the greater part 
of the chandelier 
was unlit. There 
must he some- 
thing wrong with 
the boy, he 
thought, and the 
next instant 
through the 
silence came the 
crv of " Help, 
help, help!" 
Without a mo- 
ment's hesitation 
the gas-man left 
the stage to see 
what was the 
matter, A shout to the boy that he was 
coming, and he began to climb from the 
stage to the flies. He had to grope his way 
across the gridiron through the pitch dark- 
ness of the corridor with its hideous goblin 
masks until he readied the well above the 
cowl. Another moment he was on the H- 
shaped gridiron looking through the opening 
into the body of the chandelier " Hold 
hard, Frank, I am here/ he called. The 

Digitized by LiOOQ IC 

boy, half-suffocated, half- roasted, heard the 
cheering words and understood them. 

Another moment still, the man had turned 
out the sun-burner, u Up you come, lad," 
said the man. The boy tried to make an 
effort, but his strength was almost gone* The 
deadly fumes he had been breathing for so 
many minutes had almost done their work. 

Quick as a flash the man took in the 
situation. He lay flat down and, stretching 
out his arms through the opening, he 
grasped the boy tightly with both his hands. 

Slowly, steadily, 
he began to pull 
The grip of those 
strong hands 
stimulated the 
boy, and, thus 
supported, he 
began to climb. 
From stay to 
stay t from pipe 
to pipe, he 
moved, still held 
by those strong 
hands, until at 
last his head was 
once more 
through the nar- 
row circle of the 
Partly pushing, 
partly dragged, 
he got his shoul- 
ders through, and 
then once more 
he stood upon 
the H-sbaped 
iron grid, which 
was to him as 
firm ground. 

If in moments 
of great peril 
p e p 1 e live 
through years, 
what must have 
been the experi- 
ence of the youth 
who lived through 
that ordeal which was reckoned not by 
seconds but by minutes with a ring of fire 
over his head, a ring of fire beneaih his 
feet, suffocating fumes of gas overcoming his 
senses, pipes growing hotter in his grasp, and 
in his brain the single thought that if he lost 
his hold for a moment he would fall to certain 
dea^h ? 

" Even to-day," said Mr Parker, (i I can't 
think of that episode without a shudder," 


HELF, HEJ.E' ! ' 


\Wz shall U gloul to itctivt Contributions to this seiiton^ atut to pay for such as are waited.] 

" 1 have noticed in 
your ■ Curiosity ' pages 
several curious post- 
curds. The inclosed, 
I am sure, is rather a 
novelty. It was deli- 
vered to me in the 
ordinary course* If 
suitable to appear in 
your Magazine, I 
thought il would in- 
terest several of your 
read ers , * s — M r. Ed w a rd 
B. Lee, i, Ingham 
Street, Bury, lyrics. 





41 1 send you a photo- 
graph for your * Curi- 
osities. J It shows the 
txjtly of a Utile buy 
aged three and the head 
of an old man aged 
$Lxty. I do not re- 
member ever seeing 
such a striking combination before, and your readers 
may amuse themselvesby arranging such combinations 

seats kissing the Blarney Stone — by lying on your 
hack, catching the two rails, and bending down while 
someone holds your feet. The illustration represents 
this process l>eing' performed by a lady T a Miss 
Williams, of London. "—Mr* Frank Scan well, 14, 
Puu^las Street, Cork* 

by substituting portraits of their friends — or enemies ! " 
—Mr* II. C. Hall, 8, Second Avenue, Sherwood Rise, 

" The photo. I send you may be of interest to your 
readers. It was taken Last Bank Holiday, and re pre - 

* Copyright, 190a* by George Ne^.itj, Limited 





"I send you a comic 
figure mark 1 of poppy- 
seed heads and 
stalks. I also send a 
teapot, small drinking 
cup, and epergne made 
of the seed heads, I 
mist you may deem 
these sufficiently inter- 
esting to reproduce in 
your high-das* periodi- 
cal, .My daughter, aged 
fourteen, cut out I he 
basket, etc., and sug- 
gested the idea. They 
are made from the seed 
vessels of the Shirley 
poppy, and were cut out 
when thoroughly dry, 
Ijul a night's nun soft- 
ened the remainder in 
the garden* or we shouM 
have made other arti- 
cles/' — Mrs. Beatrice 
Hay, The Grange, Up- 
minster, Essex. 

"The photograph I send you is of a eras-bred 
Scutch terrier, having a record of 1S5 miles in thirty- 
two hours. My family and I left the ranch sixteen 
miles west of Rock Springs, Texas, to spend the 
winter in San Antonio, To reach the railroad we 
had to make a trip by road of 1 to miles in a hack. 
At Sabinal, seventy miles west of San Antonio, we 

took the train and the dtyg was put in the 
luggage -van. From the station up town 
he rode in a cib at our feet On arrival 
at the hotel I handed him over to the 
negro porter, who shut him up in a room 
for the night. Not liking his separation 
from Jim, my eldest l>oy, and his sleep* 
ing companion on the trip down, he 
howled most wo fully, and was let out. 
The rest of the night he s|>ent in search- 
ing through the hotel to find us, and was 
seen alxmi 4 a.m. next morning* About 
that time the cooks came and must have 
left the doors open, as he was not seen 
again* This was Friday morning, and 
about a weok later a letter arrived from 
Mr. F. J, Richardson, my father! n- law, 
to say that the dog had arrived at the 
ranch at twelve o'clock noon, Saturday.'* 
—Mr. C. S. Green, Rock Spring, 
Edward's Co., Texas, 




photo, of 
m> self was taken at 
one exposure by stand 
ing between two mir- 
rors. It will be noticed 
that there are sis ie^ 
flections in ]>erspec- 
tive." - Mr. A. M. 
Stephen, 132, Sabine 
RoLid, Lavender llill T 

"The public-house shown in the accompanying 
photograph is an impromptu production made for the 
purpose of playing a joke. The men in the picture 
were on their holidays, and were slaying near a town 
in which a friend of theirs had recently had bequeathed 
to him a public -house called the Cross Keys. This 
friend had never seen the hostelry in question, although 
he drew the rent, and he asked the holiday-makers — 
one of whom was an amateur photographer— to photo- 
graph it for him. They converted a U*rn in the back 

garden of the place where they lodged into a puMic- 
house, as shown in the picture, and presented it to the 
owner of the real * house ' as a photograph of his pro- 
perly. The joke was a huge success.'"— Mr, A. El. 
Goldsmith, oWri^^lKtololstoke Newznglon, N. 




11 1 send you a photo. 1 took of a 
fossilized tree -stump found in a quarry 
near here, and now in Lister Park, 
Manningham. I hope it will be taken 
as a ' Curiosity/ lis resemblance to 
an octopus is truly remarkable." — Mr. 
J, Fulda, Stoneleigh, Bradford* 

"This curium building, which looks 
like i himmlcd vessel, was built in the 

form tif a ship, and is really a church* It is located ID 
the suburbs of Chicago and holds about 1,000 people- 
It was constructed by two clergymen, who call them- 
selves the Rev. Morrill Twins, and is intended princi 
pnlly for sailors and the lower classes* In connection 
with the religious services, meals are also served."— 
Mr. D, Allen Wit ley, Baltimore. 

plays on the handle of 
a cycle Hell which is 
worked by a spring, 
causing a cogwheel in it 
to revolve together with 
part of a rim brake which 
is attached ; this in turn 
pri^st-s rii.;.iii:s1 ;i Wo . t 
lever fixed I o the gas- Lap, 
thus extinguishing ihe 
light at any time the 
alarm may \)C set for. 
Considering the very 
rojgh and ready mate* 
rials used, and the most 
satisfactory way in which 
it answers its purpose* 
this contrivance does 
great credit to the in- 
genuity of the maker*" 
— Mr. Sydney llore, 
91, BarcoLiibe Avenue, blieuiham Hill, S.W. 

* B This is a photograph of rather an extraordinary 
spring. It comes straight up from ihe ground through 
the tree, which, at the lime of taking* was in full leaf. 
It is situate in a small village called Gunien, on the 
Lake of Thun* Switzerland.' 1 — Miss, E. Tew, Gun- 
field, Dartmouth. 

"ECONOMY ■ is I IN-; M<i| HI k ni INY1 \ I ■ ION. 
"I send you a photo, of an ingenious little inven- 
tion made by a friend, which I think might tw 
suitable for your ' Curiosity ' pages. As it is neces- 
sary* in his cycle shop, to have a light burning all 
night, my friend thought out this idea and put it to 
practical use* to cut oJT the light at sunrise, thus 
saving a considerable quantity oi ^as. It will \m 
seen in the photo, that the striker of the alarm clock 


■_j 1 1 1 u 1 1 1 vj 11 





" Would you care to try to discover any possible 
descendants of the original owners of this quaintly- 
inscribed silver sheath for pair of scissors ? If so, you 
can hand this relic over to them, as it should lie of 
more value to them than lo a stranger* It came in to 
my possession alxwt twenty years ago, and was found 
amongst some old silver bought for re-n jelling by my 
father, Thomas Johnson, then of 32, John Street, 
Bedford Row, W.C The inscription on the sheath 
run*, as follows ; * These scissors were for more than 
40 years used by J. Williams, Esq,, Com pi roller of 
Curiums, who died Oct. 27, 1 827. His third son, 
Capt W, J. Williams, R.X., constantly carried them 
from this dale till the date of his death, Feb. It* 1S73, 
when l hey passed to his third son, E. Williams, who 

used them till ' "—Mr. Alfred Laurie, WandsbecU, 

Westville, near Pinetowti, Natal. We have pleasure 
in acceding lo our contributor's request, and hope 
that the publication of the above may lead to the 
discovery of the rightful owner of this strange sheath. 

14 I'm sending by 
this mail 11 photo, of 
a sovereign which I 
thought you would 
like for your ■ Curi- 
osity T pages. I was 
wearing it around 
my ankle fn a little 
k-atner money - t>elt 
when I was wounded 
at Warm bad, about 
seventy or eighty 

miles north of Pretoria. The bid let (a Mauser) cut 
the piece clean out and left the sovereign slicking 
in the wound, Lieutenant WylEy rescued me and 
gained the Y.C."— Corporal Iv S. Hrown, Tasmania n 
Imperial Bushman, Penguin, Tasmania* 

M l inclose a photograph o; a pipe broken under 
the most e*traordinary circumstances. It happened 
a few weeks ago in a garden at Newton Abbot. I 
was innocently smoking it, when my friends and 
I were slartled to hear the report of a rifle, fired at no 
great di st a nee* Si m ul r a n eousl y m y pi pe was k noc ked 
out of my mouth and broken into two pieces, which 
fell to the ground, there being some 7 ft- between, 
them. The photo., which represents the two pieces, 
was taken by my friend Mr, A. S. Brookes, of Clifton. ~ 
—Mr. 1L N. Wyman, Cains College, Cambi 

" I inclose a photo. I took of an i8lii, torpedo 
just taking Lhe water, fired from this torpedn-l>uat 
destroyer, safe on the upper deck, The ship was 
steamingat the time fifteen knots. It also shows 
a modern torpedo taking the water horizontally 
instead of diving as in the earlier types. M un- 
people who have not seen a torpedo fired might 
wonder what it was, as the ship is not seen in the 
photo, at all," — Suhv- Lieutenant Arthur L + Black- 
wood, R.N., ILM,S, Otter, China Station, 

" Here is a dugong, taken by some native fishermen 
in their nets near Aden, I photographed it with its 
young baby in its arms, The Arab standing beside 
it was about 5ft, 6in. in height, which will show the 
relatively large size of the dugong* They are usually 
called l mermaids* locally, and possibly gave rise to 
the Ik- lief in those fabled beings.' 1 — Lieut, -CoL Ii. J. 
Barnes, R.A.M.C., 112, Military Road, Colchester, 






" I am sending you a series of snap-shots which I 

have taken of my pel slork' and a small nephew, 

hoi ling you will accept l hem for publication. We 

told the little boy that if 

he danced lo the shirk 

it would dance hack to 

him. He was quite brave 

as long as the stork re- 
mained on one leg f but 

when it suddenly roused it- 

sell and U-gan to dance loo, 

he fled precipitately and t 

I think, rather wisely !" — - 

Miss Mildred Olivier, 

Wilton Rectory, Wiltshire. 

" No animal is more susceptible to mesmeric in- 
fluence than the common or domestic cock. Gitch a 
bird as quietly as 
possible, su as to 
avoid alarming him. 
Place him on a 1*1 re 
flow or a broad slab 
of wood, and bend 
his head down until 
his beak touches the 
wood. Then with a 
piece of chalk draw 
a broad line from the 
tip of the beak 
straight forward. If 
he bus been properly 
handled he will rc- 


j r - |n IV II M--.S. 

main as though paralyzed for several minutes. Another 
method is to luck the bird's he^d under his win;; and 
tlieUj holding him at arms' length in IwJlh hands, to 
swing htm gently in a circle a few limes. The induced 
unconsciousness is so com- 
plete that he may be stood 
in shadow- water a con- 
siderable time before he 
d iscovers his posi t ion* The 
awakening is extremely 
comic" — Mr. A. Williams, 
7, New Road, Reading. 


" This window - sill is 
situated in the boys 3 play- 
ground at St. Thomas's 
Church Day Schools, Birmingham, and being at a con- 
venient height from the ground has been used by the 
scholars for uver sixty years for sharpening their 

slate-pencils on, The 
result is t holt he stone 
in many places has 
been worn away un- 
til almost flush with 
the brickwork, as is 
clearly shown in the 
photo. The man- 
age is have now for- 
bidden it to lie used, 
as they want *o retain 
it as a curiosity," 
— Mr. Jlerljerl J* 
Mason, Carlton 
House, Edgbastotk 




("""rw^nL'' Original from 



{SEE I'AUL 126.1 

f^ru"*nL" fc Original from 


Vol. xxiii. 

The Strand Magazine. 

FEBRUARY, 1902. 

No. 134. 

The Hound of the Baskervilles. 







OR a moment or two I sat 
breathless, hardly able to be- 
lieve my ears. Then my senses 
and my voice came back to 
me, while a crushing weight of 
responsibility seemed in an 
instant to be lifted from my soul. That cold, 
incisive, ironical voice could belong to but 
one man in all the world. 

" Holmes ! " I cried—" Holmes ! " 

"Come out," said he, "and please be 
careful with the revolver." 

I stooped under the rude lintel, and there 
he sat upon a stone outside, his grey eyes 
dancing with amusement as they fell upon 
my astonished features. He was thin and 
worn, but clear and alert, his keen face 
bronzed by the sun and roughened by the 
wind. In his tweed suit and cloth cap he 
looked like any other tourist upon the moor, 
and he had contrived, with that cat-like love 
of personal cleanliness which was one of his 
characteristics, that his chin should be as 
smooth and his linen as perfect as if he were 
in Baker Street 

" I never was more glad to see anyone in 
my life," said I, as I wrung him by the 

" Or more astonished, eh ? " 

" Well, I must confess to it." 

" The surprise was not all on one side, I 
assure you. I had no idea that you had 
found my occasional retreat, still less that 
you were inside it, until I was within twenty 
paces of the door." 

" My footprint, I presume ? " 

" No, Watson ; I fear that I could not 

undertake to recognise your footprint amid 
all the footprints of the world. If you 
seriously desire to deceive me you must 
change your tobacconist; for when I see 
the stub of a cigarette marked Bradley, 
Oxford Street, I know that my friend Watson 
is in the neighbourhood. You will see it 
there beside the path. You threw it down, 
no doubt, at that supreme moment when you 
chaTged into the empty hut." 

" Exactly." 

" I thought as much— and knowing your 
admirable tenacity I was convinced that you 
were sitting in ambush, a weapon within 
reach, waiting for the tenant to return. 
So you actually thought that I was the 
criminal ? " 

" I did not know who you were, but I was 
determined to find out." 

" Excellent, Watson ! And how did you 
localize me ? You saw me, perhaps, on the 
night of the convict hunt, when I was so 
imprudent as to allow the moon to rise 
behind me ? " 

" Yes, I saw you then." 

"And have, no doubt, searched all the 
huts until you came to this one ? " 

" No, your boy had been observed, and 
that gave me a guide where to look." 

" The old gentleman with the telescope, 
no doubt. I could not make it out when 
first I saw the light flashing upon the lens." 
He rose and peeped into the hut. " Ha, I 
see that Cartwright has brought up some 
supplies. What's this paper ? So you have 
been to Coombe Tracey, have you ? " 

" Yes." 

"To see Mrs. Laura Lyons?" 

" Exactly." 

"Well doivjiM feMTi researches have 

VoL xxttL— 16 

Copyright, 1902, by George Newrjtkl I t'iEfe*4T ) 



" THftBF. Hk SAT UPON A £T06tE/' 

evidently been running on parallel lines, and 

when we unite our results I expect we shall 
have a fairly full knowledge of the case/' 

** Well, 1 aiu glad from my heart that you 
are here, for indeed the responsibility and 
the mystery were both becoming too much 
for my nerves. But how in the name of 
wonder did you come here, and what have 
you been doing? I thought that you were in 
Baker Street working out that case of black- 

14 That was what I wished you to think," 

t[ Then you use me, and yet do not trust 
me ! " I cried, with some bitterness. "I 
think that I have deserved better at your 
hands, Holmes. 11 

11 My dear fellow, you have been invalu^ 
able to me in this as in many other cases, 
and I beg thai you will forgive me if I have 
seemed to piny a triek upon you. In truth, 
it was partly for your own s:ike thai I did it, 
and it was my appreciation of, ,tlj^ ganger 

remember the 
office -and he 

; a loaf of bread and a 
dues man want more? 

which you ran which 
led me to come down 
and examine the mat- 
ter for myself. Had 
1 been with Sir Henry 
and you it is evi- 
dent that my point of 
view would have been 
the same as yours, 
and my presence 
would have warned 
our very form ida Isle 
opponents to be on 
their guard- As it is, 
I have been able to 
get about as I could 
not possibly have 
done had I been living 
at the Hall, and I 
remain an unknown 
factor in the business, 
ready to throw in all 
my weight at a 
critical moment,' 1 

" But why keep me 
in the dark ? " 

"For you to know 
could not have helped 
us, and might possibly 
have led to my dis- 
covery- You would 
have wished to tell me 
something, or in your 
kindness you would 
have brought me out 
some comfort or other, 
and so an unnecessary 
risk would be run. 
I brought Cartwright 
down with me — you 
chap at the En press 
seen after my simple 
clean collar, 
He has given 

me an extra pair of eyes upon a very active 
pair of feet, and both have been invaluable." 

"Then my reports have all been wasted !" 
My voice trembled ns [ recalled the pains and 
the pride with which I had composed them. 

Holmes took a bundle of papers from Ins 

* L Here are your reports, my dear fellow, 
and very well thumbed, I assure you. I 
made excellent arrangements, and they are 
only delayed one day upon their way. I 
must compliment you exceedingly upon the 
zeal and the intelligence which you have 
shown overman extraordinarily difficult case." 

I was sWr i 9ARffirT r f3R 1 over the deception 




which had been practised upon me, but the 
warmth of Holmes's praise drove my anger 
from my mind. I felt also in my heart that 
he was right in what he said, and that it was 
really best for our purpose that I should not 
have known that he was upon the moor. 

''That's better," said he, seeing the shadow 
rise from my face. " And now tell me the 
result of your visit to Mrs. Laura Lyons—it 
was not difficult for me to guess that it was 
to see her that you had gone, for I am already 
aware that she is the one person in Coombe 
Tracey who might be of service to us in the 
matter. In fact, if you had not gone to-day 
it is exceedingly probable that I should have 
gone to-morrow." 

The sun had set and dusk was settling 
over the moor. The air had turned chill, 
and we withdrew into the hut for warmth. 
There, sitting together in the twilight, I told 
Holmes of my conversation with the lady. 
So interested was he that I had to repeat 
some of it twice before he was satisfied. 

"This is most important," said he, when I 
had concluded. " It fills up a gap which I had 
been unable to bridge, in this most complex 
affair. You are aware, perhaps, that a close 
intimacy exists between this lady and the 
man Stapleton ? " 

" I did not know of a close intimacy." 

" There can be no doubt about the matter. 
They meet, they write, there is a complete 
understanding between them. Now, this puts 
a very powerful weapon into our hands. If I 
could only use it to detach his wife " 

" His wife?" 

" I am giving you some information now, 
in return for all that you have given me. 
The lady who has passed here as Miss 
Stapleton is in reality his wife." 

" Good heavens, Holmes ! Are you sure 
of what you say ? How could he have per- 
mitted Sir Henry to fall in love with her?" 

u Sir Henry's falling in love could do no 
harm to anyone except Sir Henry. He took 
particular care that Sir Henry did not make 
love to her, as you have yourself observed. 
I repeat that the lady is his wife and not his 

" But why this elaborate deception ? " 

" Because he foresaw that she would be 
very much more useful to him in the charac- 
ter of a free woman." 

All my unspoken instincts, my vague sus- 
picions, suddenly took shape and centred 
upon the naturalist. In that impassive, 
colourless man, with his straw hat and his 
butterfly-net, I seemed to see something 
terrible — a creature of infinite patience and 

craft, with a smiling face and a murderous 

" It is he, then, who is our enemy —it is he 
who dogged us in London ? " 

"So I read the riddle." 

" And the warning — it must have come 
from her ! " 

" Exactly." 

The shape of some monstrous villainy, half 
seen, half guessed, loomed through the dark- 
ness which had girt me so long. 

" But are you sure of this, Holmes? How 
do you know that the woman is his wife?" 

" Because he so far forgot himself as to 
tell you a true piece of autobiography upon 
the occasion when he first met you, and I 
daresay he has many a time regretted it since. 
He was once a schoolmaster in the North of 
England. Now, there is no one more easy to 
trace than a schoolmaster. There are schol- 
astic agencies by which one may identify any 
man who has been in the profession. A little 
investigation showed me that a school had 
come to grief under atrocious circumstances, 
and that the man who had owned it — the 
name was different— had disappeared with his 
wife. The descriptions agreed. When I 
learned that the missing man was devoted to 
entomology the identification was complete." 

The darkness was rising, but much was still 
hidden by the shadows. 

" If this woman is in truth his wife, where 
does Mrs. Laura Lyons come in ?" I asked. 

" That is one of the points upon which 
your own researches have shed a light. Your 
interview with the lady has cleared the situa- 
tion very much. I did not know about a 
projected divorce between herself and her 
husband. In that case, regarding Stapleton 
as an unmarried man, she counted no doubt 
upon becoming his wife." 

" And when she is undeceived ? " 

" Why, then we may find the lady of 
service. It must be our first duty to see her 
— both of us — to-morrow. Don't you think, 
Watson, that you are away from your charge 
rather long ? Your place should be at 
Baskerville Hall." 

The last red streaks had faded away in the 
west and night had settled upon the moor. 
A few faint stars were glen mi ng in a violet sky. 

" One last question, Holmes," I said, as I 
rose. "Surely there is no need of secrecy 
between you and me. What is t ? ie meaning 
of it all? What is he after?" 

Holmes's voice sank as he answered : — 

" It is murder, Watson — refined, cold- 
blooded, deliberate murder. Do not ask me 

for P*fetvWKM' osine U|K>n 



him, even as his are upon Sir Henry, and 
with your help he is already almost at my 
mercy. There is but one danger which can 
threaten us. It is that he should strike 
before we are ready to do so. Another day 
— two at the most — and I have my case 
complete, but until then guard your charge 
as closely as ever a fond mother watched 
her niling child. Your mission to-day has 
justified itself, and yet I could almost wish 
that you had not left his side — Hark !" 

A terrible scream — a prolonged yell of 
horror and anguish burst out of the silence 
of the moor. That frightful cry turned the 
blood to ice in my veins. 

" Oh, my God ! " I gasped. " What is it ? 
WhaJ does it mean ? " 

Holmes had sprung to his feet, and I saw 
his dark, athletic outline at the door of the 
hut, his shoulders stooping, his head thrust 
forward, his face peering into the darkness. 

" Hush ! " he whispered. " Hush ! " 

The cry had been loud on account of its 
vehemence, but it had pealed out from some- 
where far off on the shadowy plain. Now it 
burst upon our ears,' nearer, louder, more 
urgent than before. 

" Where is it ? " Holmes whispered ; and I 
knew from the thrill of his voice that he, 
the man of iron, was shaken to the soul. 
" Where is it, Watson ? " 

" There, I think." I pointed into the 

" No, there ! " 

Again the agonized cry swept through the 
silent night, louder and much nearer than 
ever. And a new sound mingled with it, a 
deep, muttered rumble, musical and yet 
menacing, rising and falling like the low, 
constant murmur of the sea. 

" The hound ! " cried Holmes. " Come, 
Watson, come ! Great heavens, if we are 
too late ! " 

He had started running swiftly over the 
moor, and I had followed at his heels. But 
now from somewhere among the broken 
ground immediately in front of us there came 
one last despairing yell, and then a dull, 
heavy thud. We halted and listened. Not 
another sound broke the heavy silence of 
the windless night. 

I saw Holmes put his hand to his forehead 
like a man distracted. He stamped his feet 
upon the ground. 

"He has beaten us, Watson. Wfj are too 

" No, no, surely not ! " 

"Fool that I was to hold my '.and. And 
you, Watson, see what comes of abandoning 

your charge ! But, by Heaven, if the worst 
has happened, we'll avenge him ! " 

Blindly we ran through the gloom, 
blundering against boulders, forcing our way 
through gorse bushes, panting up hills and 
rushing down slopes, heading always in the 
direction whence those dreadful sounds had 
come. At every rise Holmes looked eagerly 
round him, but the shadows were thick upon 
the moor and nothing moved 'upon its 
dreary face. 

" Can you see anything ? " 


" But, hark, what is that ? " 

A low moan had fallen upon our ears. 
There it was again upon our left ! On that 
side a ridge of rocks ended in a sheer cliff 
which overlooked a stone-strewn slope. On 
its jagged face was spread-eagled some 
dark, irregular object. As we ran towards it 
the vague outline hardened into a definite 
shape. It was a prostrate man face down- 
wards upon the ground, the head doubled 
under him at a horrible angle, the shoulders 
rounded and the body hunched together as 
if in the act of throwing a somersault. So 
grotesque was the attitude that I could not 
for the instant realise that that moan had 
been the passing of his soul. Not a whisper, 
not a rustle, rose now from the dark 
figure over which we stooped. Holmes laid 
his hand upon him, and held it up again, 
with an exclamation of horror. The gleam 
of the match which he struck shone upon 
his clotted fingers and upon the ghastly 
pool which widened slowly from the crushed 
skull of the victim. And it shone upon 
something else which turned our hearts sick 
and faint within us — the body of Sir Henry 
Baskerville ! 

There was no chance of either of us 
forgetting that peculiar ruddy tweed suit — 
the very one which he had worn on the first 
morning that we had seen him in Baker 
Street. We caught the one clear glimpse 
of it, and then the match flickered and went 
out, even as the hope had gone out of our 
souls. Holmes groaned, and his face 
glimmered white through the darkness. 

" The brute ! the brute ! " I cried, with 
clenched hands. "Oh, Holmes, I shall 
never forgive myself for having left him to 
his fate." 

" I am more to blame than you, Watson. 
In order to have my case well rounded and 
complete, I have thrown away the life of 
my client. It is the greatest blow which 
has befallen me in mv career. But how 
could I know-how could I know— that he 




would risk his life alone upon the moor in 
the face of nil my warnings ? '' 

"That we should have heard his screams 
my God, those screams !— and yet have been 
unable to save him ! Where is this brute of 
a hound which drove him to his death? It 
may be lurking among these rocks at this 
instant. And Stapieton, where is he? He 
shall answer for this deed," 

"He shall I will see to that. Uncle and 
nephew have been murdered — the one 
frightened to death by the very sight of a 
beast which h^ thought to be supernatural, 
the other driven to his end in his wild flight 
to escape from it, But now we have to 
prove the connection between the man and 
the beast. Save from what we heard, we 
cannot even swear to the existence of the 
latter, since Sir Henry has evidently died 
from the fall. But, by heavens, running as 
he is, the fellow shall 
be in my power before 
another day is past L" 

We stood with bitter 
hearts on either side 
of the mangled body, 
overwhelmed by this 
sudden and irrevoc- 
able disasterwhich had 
brought all our long 
and weary labours to 
so piteous an end. 
Then, as the moon 
rose, we climbed to 
the top of the rocks 
over which our poor 
friend had fallen, and 
from the summit we 
gazed out over the 
shadowy moor, half 
silver and half gloom. 
Far away, miles off, in 
the direction of (Jrim- 
pen, a single steady 
yellow light was shin- 
mg. It could only 
come from the lonely 
abode of the Staple- 
tons. With a bitter 
curse 1 shook my fist 
at it as I gazed, 

"Why should we 
not seize him at 
once ? " 

"Our case is not 
complete. T he fellow 
is wary and cunning 
to the last degree. It 
is not what we know, 

but what we can prove. If we make one 
false move the villain may escape us yet. J " 

" What can we do ? ' 

"There will be plenty for us to do to- 
morrow. To-night we can only perform the 
last offices to our poor friend." 

Together we made our way down the pre- 
cipitous slope and approached the body, 
black and clear against the silvered stones. 
The agony of those contorted limbs struck 
me with a spasm of pain and blurred my 
eyes with tears* 

u We must send for help, Holmes! We 
cannot carry him all the way to the Hall 
Good heavens, are you mad ? " 

He had uttered a cry and bent over the 
body. Now he was dancing and laughing 
and wringing my hand, Could this be my 
stern, self-contained friend? These were 
hidden fires, indeed ! 



Original from 



" A beard ! A beard ! The man has a 
beard ! " 

" A beard?" 

" It is not the Baronet — it is — why, it is 
my neighbour, the convict ! " / 

With feverish haste we had turned the 
body over, and that dripping, beard was point- 
ing up to the cold, clear moon. There could 
be no doubt about the beetling forehead, the 
sunken animal eyes. It was, indeed, the same 
face which had glared upon me in the light 
of the candle from over the rock — the face of 
Selden, the criminal. 

Then in an instant it was all clear to tiie. I 
remembered how the Baronet had told me 
that he had handed his old wardrobe to 
Barrymore. Barrymore had passed it on in 
order to help Selden in his escape. Boots, 
shirt, cap — it was all Sir Henry's. The 
tragedy was still black enough, but this man 
had at least deserved death by the laws of 
his country. I told Holmes how the matter 
stood, my heart bubbling over with thankful- 
ness and joy. 

"Then the clothes have been the poor 
fellow's death," said he. "It is clear enough 
that the hound has been laid on from some 
article of Sir Henry's— the. boot which was 
abstracted in the hotel, in all probability— and 
so ran this man down. There is one very 
singular thing, however : How came Selden, 
in the darkness, to know that the hound was 
on his trail?" 

" He heard him." 

11 To hear a hound upon the moor would 
not work a hard man like this convict into 
such a paroxysm of terror that he would risk 
recapture by screaming wildly for help. By 
his cries he must have run a long way after 
he knew the animal was on his track. How 
did he know ?" 

" A greater mystery to me is why this 
hound, presuming that all our conjectures 
are correct " 

" I presume nothing." 

" Well, then, why this hound should be 
loose to night. I suppose that it does not 
always run loose upon the moor. Stapleton 
would not let it go unless he had reason to 
think that Sir Henry would be there." 

" My difficulty is the more formidable of 
the two, for I think that we shall very shortly 
get an explanation of yours, while mine may 
remain for ever a mystery. The question 
now is, what shall we do with this poor 
wretch's body ? We cannot leave it here 
to the foxes and the ravens." 

41 1 suggest that we put it in one of the huts 
until we can communicate with the police." 

" Exactly. I have no doubt that you and 
I could carry it so far. Halloa, Watson, what's 
this ? It's the man himself, by all that's won- 
derful and audacious ! Not a word to show 
your suspicions— not a word, or my plans 
crumble to the ground." 

A figure was approaching us over the moor, 
and I saw the dull red glow of a cigar. The 
moon shone upon him, and I could dis- 
tinguish the dapper shape and jaunty walk 
of the naturalist. He stopped w T hen he saw 
us, and then came on again. 

"Why, Dr. Watson, that's not you, is it? 
You are the last man that I should have 
expected to see out on the moor at this 
time of night. But, dear me, what's this ? 
Somebody hurt? Not— don't tell me that it 
is our friend Sir Henry !" He hurried past 
me and stooped over the dead man. I heard 
a sharp intake of his breath and the cigar 
fell from his fingers. 

" Who --who's this ? " he stammered. 

" It is Selden, the man who escaped from 

Stapleton turned a ghastly face upon us, 
but by a supreme effort he had overcome his 
amazement and his disappointment. He 
looked sharply from Holmes to oie. 

" Dear me ! What a very shocking affair ! 
How did he die ? " 

" He appears to have broken his neck by 
falling over these rocks. My friend and I 
were strolling on the moor when we heard a 

" I heard a cry also. That was what 
brought me out. I was uneasy about Sir 

"Why about Sir Henry in particular?" I 
could not help asking. 

" Because 1 had suggested that he should 
come over. When he did not come I was 
surprised, and I naturally became alarmed 
for his safety when I heard cries upon the 
moor. By the way " — his eyes darted again 
from my face to Holmes's — "did you hear 
anything else besides a cry?" 

"No/' said Holmes; "did you?" 

" No." 

" What do you mean, then ? " 

" Oh, you know the stories that the 

^peasants tell about a phantom hound, and so 

on. It is said to be heard at night upon the 

moor. I was wondering if there were any 

evidence of such a sound to-night." 

"We heard nothing of the kind," said I. 

"And what is your theory of this poor 
fellow's death ? " 

" I have . no doubt that anxiety and 
exposure have driven him off his head. He 





has rushed about the moor in a crazy state 
and eventually fallen over here and broken 
his neck.' 1 

"That seems the most reasonable theory," 
said Staple ton, and he gave a sigh which I 
took to indicate his relief, "What do you 
think about it, Mr, Sherlock Holmes?" 

My friend bowed his compliments. 

" You are quick at identification/' said he. 

" We have been expecting you in these 
parts since Dr. Watson came down. You 
are in time to see a tragedy." 

" Yes, indeed I have no doubt that my 
friend's explanation will cover the facts. I 
will take an unpleasant remembrance back to 
London with me to-morrow." 

" Oh, you return to-morrow ? " 

"That is my intention*" 
I hope your visit has cast some light 

Vol. xxiii -17. 

by Google 

upon those occurrences which have puzzled 

Holmes shrilled his shoulders. 

" One cannot always have the success for 
which one hopes. An investigator needs 
facts, and not legends or rumours. It has 
not been a satisfactory case." 

My friend spoke in his frankest and most 
unconcerned manner. Stapleton still looked 
hard at him. Then he turned to me. 

" I would suggest carrying this poor fellow 
to my house, but it would give my sister 
such a fright that I do not feel justified in 
doing it. I think that if we put something 
over his face he will be safe until morning." 

And so it was arranged. Resisting 

Stapleton J s offer of hospitality, Holmes and 

I set off to Baskerville Hall, leaving the 

naturalist to return alone, hooking back 

Original from 




we saw the figure moving slowly away over 
the broad moor, and behind him that one 
black smudge on the silvered slope which 
showed where the man was lying who had 
come so horribly to his end. 

" We're at close grips at last," said Holmes, 
as we walked together across the moor. 
" What a nerve the fellow has ! How he 
pulled himself together in the face of what 
must have been a paralyzing shock when he 
found that the wrong man had fallen a 
victim to his plot. I told you in London, 
Watson, and I tell you now again, that we 
have never had a foeman more worthy of 
our steel." 

" I am sorry that he has seen you." 

" And so was I at first But there was no 
getting out of it." 

" What effect do you think it will have 
upon his plans, now that he knows you are 

" It may cause him to be more cautious, 
or it may drive him to desperate measures 
at once. Like most clever criminals, he 
may be too confident in his own clever- 
ness and imagine that he has completely 
deceived us." 

" Why should we not arrest him at 
once ? " 

" My dear Watson, you were born to be a 
man of action. Your instinct is always to 
do something energetic. But supposing, for 
argument's sake, that we had him arrested 
to-night, what on earth the better off should 
we be for that ? We could prove nothing 
against him. There's the devilish cunning 
of it ! If he were acting through a human 
agent we could get some evidence, but if we 
were to drag this great dog to the light of 
day it would not help us in putting a rope 
round the neck of its master." 

" Surely we have a case." 

" Not a shadow of one — only surmise and 
conjecture. We should be laughed out of 
court if we came with such a story and such 

11 There is Sir Charles's death." 

" Found dead without a mark upon him. 

You and I know that he died of sheer fright, 
and we know also what frightened him ; but 
how are we to get twelve stolid jurymen to 
know it ? VVhat signs are there of a hound ? 
Where are the marks of its fangs ? Of course, 
we know that a hound does not bite a dead 
body, and that Sir Charles was dead before 
ever the brute overtook him. But we have 
to prove all this, and we are not in a position 
to do it." 

" Well, then, to-night ? " 

" We are not much better off to-night. 
Again, there was no direct connection between 
the hound and the man's death. We never 
saw the hound. We heard it ; but we could 
not prove that it was running upon this man's 
trail. There is a complete absence of motive. 
No, my dear fellow ; we must reconcile our- 
selves to the fact that we have no case at 
present, and that it is worth our while to run 
any risk in order to establish one." 

" And how do you propose to do so ? " 

" I have great hopes of what Mrs. Laura 
Lyons may do for us when the position of 
affairs is made clear to her. And I have 
my own plan as well. Sufficient for to- 
morrow is the evil thereof ; but I hope 
before the day is past to have the upper 
hand at last." 

I could draw nothing farther from him, 
and he walked, lost in thought, as far as the 
Baskerville gates. 

" Are you coming up ? " 

" Yes ; I see no reason for further conceal- 
ment. But one last word, Watson. Say 
nothing of the hound to Sir Henry. Let him 
think that Selden's death was as Stapleton 
would have us believe. He will have a better 
nerve for the ordeal which he will have to 
undergo to-morrow, when he is engaged, if I 
remember your report aright, to dine with 
these people." 

"And so am I." 

"Then you must excuse yourself and he 
must go alone. That will be easily arranged. 
And now, if we are too late for dinner, I 
think that we are both ready for our 

{To be continued?) 

by Google 

Original from 

<£ -^ 




" V" 

By Heckles Wjllson. 


]T is related that when Carlyle first 
came to London he visited the 
Mint in the company of a young 
German, who, gazing at the design 
for the new pence! halfpence, and 
observed that Bri- 
tannia having acquired a hel- 
met might now pass readily 
for Minerva's twin sister. 

"That may weel be," re- 
torted the cynical philosopher, 
who did not entertain a very 
high opinion of the wisdom 
of his countrymen, " but no 
Wkmym hear them talk /" 

Is it not curious that just 
such an unflattering remark 
Wi passed on the beauteous 
lady who first posed in this 
kingdom for the figure of Britannia, and 
*hose likeness long represented Britannia 
on our coinage? |g No woman," wrote one 
chronicler, ungallantly enough, w could have 
less wit and more beauty," Yet it is by 
■0 means certain that the character of 
the handsome Frances Stuart, Duchess of 
Richmond, has not been greatly maligned, 
or that one who was capable of inspiring 
so great a passion in so many bosoms was 
W: really the possessor of admirable traits 
of mind as well as of person 

HADHIAK, A. I*, 122. 

by \j 



But the romance of Britannia begins long 
before the days of the Merrie Monarch and 
his Court. We must indeed go hack to 
ancient Rome. When the Emperor Hadrian 
returned from his expedition to Britain, 
a.d. i2i, En his train were several British 
maidens meet to grace his triumph. One 
of these, hailing from Wintona (Winchester), 
named Margia, so affected 
the managers of the cere- 
monies by her grace and 
beauty that she was properly 
chosen to symbolize the new 
Roman province in the far 
north. The story runs that 
the lovely Maxgia sat for her 
statue to the sculptor Cri- 
tunius, who afterwards married 
her. But, although the statue 
has perished, during the same 
year a female figure appeared 
on a Roman coin 
bearing the legend 
t6 Britannia." This 
figure is very 
similar, so far as 
pose and apparel 
go, with that on 
our copper coin- 
age to day. Such 
was the first Bri- 
tannia, She ap- 
peared again on a 
coin of Antoninus 


a.d, 14& OriQin* 





Pius and on a medal of 
Com modus* It was a 
custom among the 
Romans to represent 
outlying portions of the 
Empire and even Rome 
itself by symbolical 
female figures. One of 
the most familiar of the 
Roman coins relating to 
Britain represents Bri- 
tannia seated on a rock, 
in an attitude of dejec- 
tion ; before her rests a 
large oval shield and a 
military standard. This 
coin is often found in 
England, and was 
coined under an Antoninus in the second 

Britannia as a national prototype had 
appeared in Rome ; but only to disappear. 
Probably she died with the lovely Margia ; for 
after the fine 
medal of Corn- 
modus nothing 
more is heard of 
her until King 
James I. ex- 
changed his 
palace of Holy- 
rood for that of 
Whitehall, at the 
beginning of the 
seventeenth cen- 
tury. The spirit 
of Margia slept, 
in fact, for more 
than fourteen 
centuries, and 
was rudely 
waked to life 
by an obscure 
bard's crying in 
her ear : "A wake, 
Brittania ; rise, 
O maid, and 
sing!' 1 Had the 
maid known of 
this spelling 
of her name she 
might perhaps 
have been less 
inclined to obey 
the poet's man- 
date ; although 
two fs and a 
single n really 
do occur on the 




From a Painting} 

i by Go< 


Commodus medal, a 
proof that Britain was 
being less thought of and 
cared about at Rome, 

As to the stirring ode 
itself, it was in celebra- 
tion of the accession of a 
British Emperor — James, 
to wit For it is not 
very surprising to find 
on an accession piece 
of 1603 this legend : 
11 James L, Emperor of 
the whole Island of Bri- 
tain and King of France 
and Ireland/' Such a 
title was, of course, quite 
in accordance with 
James's idea of the boundless power and 
exalted position of his throne. 

Here and there, after the virtual union of 
the two Crowns in a single monarch during 
this and the succeeding reign, we come 

across chance 
references to 
Britannia ; but 
she is yet a nebu- 
lous, uncertain 
figure. The re- 
naissance of the 
symbol now so 
familiar is de- 
layed until the 
coming from 
France to the 
Court of Charles 
II, of a beautiful 
young damsel 
named Frances 
Stuart* This 
was in 1662, and 
Miss Stuart was 
only seventeen 
years old* She 
was ihe daughter 
of Walter Stuart, 
a younger son 
of the Baron of 
Blantyre and a 
distant relation 
of the King's. 
Personally re- 
commended by 
the Queen Dow- 
ager Henrietta 
Maria, she came 
to Whitehall, 
and was immedi- 
ately appointed 


1 T from 




Maid of Honour to Queen Katherine* Her 
beauty soon created a sensation : everybody 
at Court, from monarch to serving-man, fell 
under its spell. 
Indeed, it has 
been said that 
Frances Stuart 
was the only 
woman with 
whom Charles 
was ever really 
in love. But 
stead fastly did 
she resist all the 
Royal allure- 
ments, attach- 
ing herself 
loyally to the 
person of the 
Queen, denying 
herself to suitors, 
and leading a 
though far from 
prosaic or aus- 
tere, life. 

It appears to 
have been at 
some charades 
in the winter of 
1663-4 that Mi ss 
Stuart first ap- 
peared in the 
character of Bri- 
tannia, a charac- 
ter in which she was afterwards painted by 
Lely and Gascar, and in which she appeared 
on a medallion by John Roettier, when that 
artist was appointed 
designer to the Mint. 
To whom the idea of 
Miss Stuart's person- 
ation of Britannia is 
due is not known ; 
it has been said to 
have been Charles 
himself; whilst 
others ascribe it to 
the talented medallist 
whose classical stu- 
dies and familiarity 
with the ancient 
Roman coinage 
would naturally sug- 
gest a revival of 
Britannia. All we 
know is that Roet- 
tier, in the course of 
several sittings from 


His Majesty for the purpose of making a 
medallion in commemoration of the Restora- 
tion, frequently met Miss Stuart, as well as 

Lady Castle- 
maine and other 
ladies of the 
Court, that he 
his admiration, 
and requested to 
be permitted to 
execute a bust 
in relief of her 
also. The idea 
greatly charmed 
the King, who 
laughingly de- 
clared that his 
41 fair cousin's if 
face should serve 
as the reverse of 
the proposed 
medal. This 
must have 
shocked even 
the levity of the 
Court ; for few 
were aware that 
Charles really 
had thoughts, in 
case his Queen's 
illness had a 
fatal termina- 
tion, of leading 
the beautiful 
Frances Stuart to the altar. Rocttier happily 
proposed a literal fulfilment of the King's 
idea. His invention, although it offended 

some at first, was, a 
few years later, w T hen 
it came to appear on 
the coinage, greatly 
approved of by the 

Pepys, in his diary, 
under date of Feb- 
ruary 25th, 1667, 
observes : '* At my 
goldsmith's did ob- 
serve the King's new 
medal, where in little 
there is Miss Stuart's 
face, as well done 
as ever I saw any- 
thing in my whole 
life, I think ; and a 
pretty thing it is," 
he adds, "that he 
: ror fthould choose her 





face to represent Britannia by," Which was 
literally true ! 

In this first design Justice, Hercules, 
and Pallas are seen presenting an olive 
branch to Britannia, who is seated under a 
cliff near the seashore holding a spear and 
shield. Generally well executed as the next 
large national medal in which Miss Stuart 
figured was, the lady was by no means satis- 
fied with the posture of herself as Britannia. 
One morning the surprised artist received a 
call at the Mint from the object of Ins adora- 
tion, who coolly informed him that her right 
leg was awkwardly placed on the medal, and 
so gave her great displeasure ! This objec- 
tionable medal had been struck to commem- 
orate the Peace of Breda, 1667. There 

tifrEnA MEEMI-, 1667. 

was another in honour of Britain's naval 
victories owning the same imperfection- 
In deference to the lady's prejudices the 
inelegant Britannias were recalled and the 
desired improvement made by 
the artist. 

That Miss Stuart's likeness 
appeared on the coinnge in 1672 
was probably due to Roet tiers 
rather than to the King's initia- 
tive. In the intervening years the 
original Britannia had experienced 
some thrilling history, which is 
duly recorded in the memoirs of 
that reign. One dark, stormy 
night while the Breda medal was the talk of 
the kingdom, she eloped from her room at 
Whitehall and joined her lover, the Duke of 
Richmond, who had quarrelled with his liege 
lord. They met at the Bear Inn, by London 
Bridge, and escaped into Kent, where they 

Digitized by GoOqIc 

were privately married. Her husband , the 
Duke, was afterwards banished* dying abroad 
in the very year that his Duchess's portrait, 
in the character of Britannia, was being 
newly passed from hand to hand amongst the 
yeoman and petty tradesfolk of the realm. At 
his decease the little gold medallion of the 
Duchess which he wore was given by her to 
Roettier It may now be seen by the curious 
in the British Museum, That the medallist 



was himself in love with his Britannia was 
generally believed. Amongst others, it is 
mentioned by Evelyn and Horace Walpole, 

So much, then, for the first Britannia on 
our British coins. It is interesting to know 
that she survived, in a likeness readily 
recognisable throughout the reigns of 
James II. and William III. When Queen 
Anne ascended the throne it was another 
matter. The Duchess was, however, spared 
the pangs of seeing herself displaced on the 
currency, even by her Queen ; she died in 
the very year of Anne's accession. The 
new copper and small silver coinage, after 
some delay, appeared, and Anne 
herself was found to occupy the 
position so long held by her 
deceased subject The figure of 
Britannia is the same, even to 
the bared knee on the farthings : 
there is the shield with the Union 
Jack, the extended olive branch, 
and the spear ; but the face is not 
the face of Frances Stuart, but 
of Queen Anne. 
In the meantime Britannia had seized 
hold of the popular imagination. She was 
generally accepted as the ideal human 
symbol of the greatness of Britain ; and 
our painters and sculptors sought to present 
her in all her ideal attributes of majesty 
Original from 





Frtjm Bacon's Mnnumfnt to Chatham in Westminsier Abl»ey — 
Modelled from i tie Sculptor's Wife, 

and beauty. But the engravers 
at the Mint were too eager to 
curry favour with Royalty, where- 
fore we have, during the reigns 
of the early Georges, occasionally 
an attempt to convey a likeness 
of the Royal consort rather than 
an ideal Britannia, 

It is not until 1797 that Bri- 
tannia on our coins grasps the 
rident instead of the spear, an 
allusion to British naval activity 
of that day. She still holds out 
the olive branch, however reluc- 
tant the rest of Europe 
is to receive that token 
of peace. 

A full generation be- 
fore a new model had 
been given to the world 
of a lovely and dignified 
Britannia. In his monu- 
ment to Chatham in West- 
minster Abbey, John 
Bacon introduced what f 

is still regarded as the 
finest Britannia extant in 
marble. Perhaps a close 
second is that by Noile- 
kens in his monument to 
the "Three Captains of 
Rodney," as it is called, 
which occupies an adja- 


Httttm AftSKV. ALSO WH>Fl*Ltft FROM 




cent site in our national temple of fame. The 
romantic circumstance connected with both 
these statues of Britannia is that they are each 
said to have been taken from the respective 
wives of the sculptors. The story of John 
Bacon and his model is especially interesting. 
In early life Bacon was apprenticed to a 
potter, with whose step-daughter, Martha 
Holland, he fell in love. The couple became 
engaged, but misunderstandings arose and 
they separated, not meeting for many years, 
Bacon, thinking Mistress Holland had for- 
gotten him, allowed himself at length to be 
drawn into a matrimonial alliance with a 
woman he did not love, only to discover, a 
few months after marriage, that the fair 
Martha was on his account slowly breaking 
her heart. This discovery of their mutual 
feelings was also made by the wife, who, 
dying of mortification, left the lovers free to 
fly into each other's arms. One of the first 
pieces of work Bacon executed after this 
second marriage was a model of his handsome 
wife as Britannia. It afterwards served as 
the pattern for his Westminster Abbey master- 

The success justly 
attained by this statue 
stirred the celebrated 
Nollekens to jealous 
emulation. His biogra- 
pher declares that his 
monument to the three 
captains was done in 
avowed imitation of 
Bacon's work, Mrs, Nol- 
lekens, who laid claims to 
being a great beauty in 
her youth, insisted, it is 
said, in posing as Bri- 
tannia ; and her admirer, 
I)r\ Johnson, was ready 
to declare that the like- 
ness was by no means 
too flattering. But there 
were, be it said, malicious 
wits about town who 
averred that "Little 
Nolley " had viewed his 
spouse through a special 
lens of the fancy, and had 
derived his inspiration 
for Britannia to a greater 
degree from the comely 
proportion of Miss Cole- 
man, a Co vent Garden 

It w T as this same Mrs. 
whose joint 

Original from 


i 3 6 


reputation with her husband for parsimony 
at a later date set all London in roars of 
laughter. Once Lord Londonderry sat for 
his bust on a bitterly cold day, and during 
the sculptor's momentary absence from the 
studio got up and put some more coals on 
the small fire, 

" My lord , my lord/' cried the sculptor's 
wife, in deep concern, tl I don't know what 
Mr, Nollekens will say;" 

" Never mind," said his lordship, calmly, 
" Tell him to put J em all in the bill." 

In pictorial art, and especially in the 
satirical designs of the day, Britannia had 
also now grown to be a familiar figure. 
RowJandson and Gill ray invoke her presence 
freely in their satires, although John Bull, as 
a generic type, is much oftener portrayed. 

When the Frenchman Droz came to be 
designer at the 
Mint towards the 
end of the eigh- 
teenth century he 
had the effrontery 
to execute an un- 
d raped Britannia 
with a distinct 
French cast of 
features, but Pitt 
would have none 
of it, and so the 
device was aban- 
doned. It is 
curious how the 
figure of Britannia 
on the coins was 
jealously watched 
by imaginative 
partisans during 
the reigns of the 
Georges. One 
Whig charged the 
sculptor with giv- 
ing her coiffure a 
Jacobite turn, 

while Horace Walpole in his "Letters" 
declares that one faction distinctly saw a 
Hanoverian rat gnawing at Britannia's bared 
knee on the farthing ! 

The honour of he] meting Britannia, and 
SO making her more like Minerva than ever, 



(Hy perniLMoion ot Mc^ts, KLkin^ton & Co.) 

belongs to Pistrucchi in 182 1, which engraver, 
it is said, greatly offended George IV, by 
making him appear too corpulent ! 

Four years later the long - borne olive 
branch was dropped — not suddenly, for the 
curious will note that Britannia's arm had 
drooped to her side in the previous issue 
of 1823. 

In [840 appeared Mulready's design of 
Britannia on the new postage - envelope, 
which grew to be, and is yet, to philatelists, 
one of the most familiar of all the figures of 
the national goddess. 

About this time Mr* Punch, too, made his 
bow to the world. In his pages the first 
Britannia, drawn by Herring, was by no 
means as graceful or engaging as she was 
afterwards to become under the pencils of 
Leech, Tenniel, and Sambourne, and 

especially of the 
two bust - named, 
whose stately Bri- 
tannia embodies 
much more the 
poetical idea than 
even the fair 
Frances Stuart 
herself, Of the 
lovely Margia of 
Winchester, the 
original Britannia 
of the legend, there 
remains unluckily 
little to aid us in 
forming a just con- 

Among the very 
latest of the Bri- 
tannias is that on 
the Coronation 
Medal which has 
recently been exe- 
cuted under the 
eye of King Ed- 
ward and approved 
of by His Majesty. It can hardly escape 
attention that Herr Fuchs's conception of 
Britannia displays many of the traits and 
attributes which marked Roettier's original 
design nearly two and a half centuries ago, and 
which have not since recurred on the coinage. 

by Google 

Original from 

Breaking the Ice. 

By Richard Marsh. 

HORTLY after my seventeenth 
birthday Mr. Sanford and I had 
a serious difference of opinion 
which almost amounted to a 
quarrel. I do not say that the 
fault was entirely his. But 
that is not the point. The point is whether, 
every time you happen to be not quite 
exactly right, you are to be treated as if you 
were a mere worm, and have your age thrown 
in your face. 

It was not my fault that I was only seven- 
teen. As Mr. Pitt said — I remember reading 
about it at Mrs. Sawyer's — being young is a 
crime one grows out of. Rome was not 
built in a day. You cannot do everything 
at once. It is quite certain that you cannot 
be ninety in five minutes. I was perfectly 
aware that Mr. Sanford was twenty-five. It 
is not a time of life against which I have a 
word to say. I feel sure that it is a delightful 
age. But I cannot understand why persons 
who are twenty-five should consider them- 
selves so immensely superior to persons who 
are only seventeen. Or if they are superior, 
and are known to be, that is no reason why 
they should show it. 

On my birthday Mr. Sanford gave me a 
box of gloves. Now, I am 5ft. 5^in. high. 
I know I am, because when Dick made me 
stand up against the wall with my hair down 
and a book on my head, he said he never 
should have thought it from the look of me. 
Which was not a nice thing to say. But, then, 
brothers have manners of their own. I want 
to know what size hand a person who is 
nearly 5ft 6in. high ought to have. Because, 
directly I opened the box, I saw that they 
were lovely gloves, but that they were all six 
and a half. 

"Oh, what a pity ! ^ I cried. "They'll be 
like boats on me ! I take six and a quarter ! " 
Of course, I am conscious that -it was not 
precisely a civil remark to make ; and had I 
reflected I might not have made it. But it 
was out before I even guessed it was coming. 
As it was out, it was. And, anyhow, it was 
simply the truth. At the time Mr. Sanford 
was as nice as possible. He expressed his 
regret for the mistake which had occurred, 
and volunteered to change them. 

He did change them. Four or five days 
afterwards he came with another box. It was 
the 1 6th of November, a Thursday. As it 
turned out to be a memorable day to me 1 

VA xxiii.— 18. 


have the best ol reasons for keeping the 
exact date in my mind. I shall never forget 
it — never. Not if I live long enough to lose 
my memory. It was very cold. All the 
week it had been freezing— that is, off and 
on. Because I admit that it might occa- 
sionally have risen above freezing-point. But 
it certainly had been freezing all the day 
before and all that morning — hard. Ice was 
everywhere. I had made up my mind to try 
it ; and had just finished cleaning my skates 
when Mr. Sanford came in. 

44 Why," he exclaimed, when he saw them, 
11 what are you going to do with those ? " 

44 I'm going to skate with them. What is 
one generally supposed to do with skates ?" 

44 But, my dear Miss Boyes, it's impossible. 
After two or three days' more frost, perhaps. 
But at present the ice won't bear." 

Now, there was just that something about 
his tone which nettled me. It was the way 
he had of taking it for granted that, because 
he said a thing, the matter was necessarily at 
an end, since it was impossible to imagine 
that anyone would venture on remonstrance. 

"I daresay it will be strong enough to 
bear me." 

44 1 very much doubt it." 

44 Do you — do you skate? " 

44 A little." 

44 Then, since that sister and those brothers 
of mine have gone off they alone know 
where, may I venture to suggest that you 
should come with me ? " 

44 1 shall be delighted — as far as the ice. 
I'm sure you'll find that it won't bear. And, 
anyhow, I've no skates." 

44 There are a pair of Dick's. They're not 
very rusty. And I don't suppose you'll find 
them very much too small." 

He took them up and smiled. 

44 As you say, they're not very rusty, and I 
daresay my feet are not very much more 
gigantic than Dick's ; but " 

44 But what ? " 

44 1 shall be very glad to come with you to 
examine the ice. But when you get to it 
you'll find that skating is out of ihe question." 

44 If I get to the ice I promise you that I'll 
go on it. I am passionately fond of skating, 
and, as we so seldom get any, I like to take 
advantage of every chance I get. Besides, 
I am not afraid of a little cold water, even 
if it does happen to be a degree or two 
under the usual temperature." 

Original from 



He laughed. He had a way of laughing 
when I said things which were not meant to 
be comical which puzzled me; and annoyed 
me, too. Fortunately for himself he changed 
the subject — handing me the box he had 
been carrying, 

" I've brought the gloves, This time I 
hope you will find that they are not like 
boats, lam 
credibly I n - 
formed that they 
are six and a 
quarter. 11 

u Thank you so 
much, I really 
am ashamed of 
myself for giving 
you so much 
trouble — it's so 
sweet of you. 
Oh, what lovely 
gloves. Just the 
shades I like. 
As I have brought 
none down with 
I think I'll 


put a pair on 

I ought to have 
known better I 
hud, as 1 have 
said, just finished 
cleaning my 
skates, and had 
been washing my 
hands, and, in 
con seq ue nce> 
they were cold. 
It is not, at any 
time, the work of 
only a moment 
to put on a 
brand - new pair 
of properly-fitting 
gloves. Every- 
body knows that 
— who knows 
anything at all. 
They require 
coaxing. Especially is this the case when your 
hands are cold. And certainly the task is not 
rendered easier by the knowledge that you 
are being observed by critical, supercilious 
eyes, towards whose owner you entertain a 
touch of resentment. Those gloves would 
not go on* The consciousness that Mr. 
San ford was staring at me with obvious 
amusement made me, perhaps, more awk- 
ward than I should have been. But, what- 


ever the cause, I do not think I ever had so 

much trouble with a pair of gloves either 

before or since* 

Presently he spoke : — 

" Rather tight, aren't they ? " 

" Tight ! What do you mean ? I suppose 

they're six and a quarter? rt 

"Oh, yes ; they're six and a quarter. But 

don't you think 
it might have 
been better t« 
have kept the 
original six and 
a half for the 
sake of the 
additional ease?" 
" Ease ? You 
don't want ease 
in a glove," 

"No? That's 
rather a novel 
point of view. 
Do you want it 
to be uneasy, 
then ? " 

M A properly- 
fitting glove 
never is uneasy. 
You are possibly 
not aware that a 
new glove always 
is a little difficult 
to get on the first 

" Yes ; so it 

Something in 
his tone annoyed 
me, particularly 
the impertinent 
suggestion which 
I felt sure it was 
intended to con- 
vey. I gave an 
angry tug at the 
glove and, be- 
hold ! it split. I 
know I went 
crimson all over. 

by Google 

Mr. Sanford laughed outright, 

" When you try to cram a quart into a pint 
pot something is bound to go." 

A ruder remark I had never had addressed 
to me. My own brothers could not have 
been more vulgar. Even they had never 
compared my hand with either a quart or a 
pint pot An observation of the kind it was 
impossible that I should condescend to 
notice. Removing the glove, with all the 

Original from 




dignity at my command, I replaced it in the 

" I think that 1 had better wear a pair of 
gloves which have become adapted to the 
unfortumte conformation of my hands/' 

"But, Molly ■ 

' I don 1 know who has given you per- 
mission to use my Christian name, Mr 
San ford. I have noticed that you have done 
so two or three times recently. I am not a 
relative of yours." 

His eyes twinkled, Although I did not 
look at him, I knew they did, because of the 
peculiar way in which he spoke. When they 
twinkled there was always something in his 
voice which, to the trained ear, was unmis- 
takable. Not that I wish it to be 
inferred that I had paid any atten- 
tion to Mr. Sanford's oddities. It 
was the mere result of my tendency 
to notice trifles. 

** But, Miss Boyes, I never could 
understand why a woman of reason- 
able, and proper, and delightful pro- 
portions should show a desire to be 
the possessor of a hand which, as 
regards dimensions, would be only 
suited to a dwarf/* 

" Is it I you are calling a mon- 
ster, or only my hand ? TJ 

"Neither. I should not pre- 
sume to call you anything. But I 
would take leave to observe that 
you have as dainty, as well shaped, 
as capable, and, I may add, as 
characteristic a pair of hands as I 
have ever seen." 

" Personal remarks are not in 
the best of taste, are they ? I 
believe I have had occasion to 
point that out to you before," 

I took that box of gloves up- 
stairs and I banged them on the 
dressing-table. When I looked 
into the glass I saw that my cheeks 
were glowing and my eyes too. It 
was plain that I was in a perfect 
passion. The most exasperating 
part of it was that I knew what a 
fright bad temper made of me. It 
does of your black sort of people. 

Never did I meet anyone with a greater 
capacity for rubbing you the wrong way than 
Mr P Sanford. And so autocratic ! I sup- 
pose that if he is of opinion that I ought 
to wear six and three-quarters I shall have 
to. But I will give him clearly to under- 
stand that, whatever size my hands may be, 
I shall wear sixes if I like. I do not pro- 

pose to allow him to lay down the law to 
me, even on the question of gloves, 

I kept him waiting as long as ever I 
could ; though, up in my bedroom, where 
there was no fire, it was positively freezing ; 
and every moment I grew colder and colder, 
till I felt I must be congealing. But I knew 
that he hated waiting ■ so, while I dawdled, 
I wondered if everybody was crushed by 
everybody else as some people crushed me ; 
or, at lea*t, as they tried to. When I got 
down he was standing at the window, staring 
out into the grounds, 

"Are you still there? I thought you 
would have gone. I trust that you have 
not remained on my account. I didn't hurry. 



by Google 

Even an old pair of gloves cannot be put on 
in half a second." 

11 So it would appear." 

" As you are not going to skate, and I am, 
I won't keep you/' 

" You were good enough to ask me to 
come with you to see if the Ice would bear," 

'* I J m sure it will bear enough for me ; 
though probably net enough for you. And 
as you're nervous it's hardly worth while to 

Original from 



put you to any further trouble. You would 
hardly find it amusing to stand on the bank 
and watch me skating." 

11 Well, I can fancy more objectionable 

44 Can you ? There is no accounting for 
peopled fancies." 

44 There certainly isn't." 

44 So, as I am already later than I intended, 
I will wish you good-day. And thank you 
so much for the gloves." 

44 Good-day ; and pray don't mention the 
gloves ever again. But I'm going with you 
all the same. I'll borrow Dick's skates on 
the off-chance, and ask his permission after- 

44 Oh, I've no doubt that Dick will have no 
objection to your taking them ; but a3 you're 
not going to skate, really, Mr. Sanford, it's 
not the slightest use your coming." 

44 No use, but a great deal of pleasure for 
me. Let me carry your skates." 

44 Thank you, but I prefer to carry them 

He planted himself in front of me ; looked 
me in the face ; stretched out his arm, and 
took the skates from my hand — the aston- 
ishing part of it being that I did not offer the 
slightest resistance. 

44 1 do declare, Mr. Sanford, that you're the 
most dictatorial person I ever met. You 
appear to be under the impression that people 
are not entitled to have opinions of their 
own on any subject whatever. I suppose I 
may carry my own skates if I want to ? " 

44 Quite so. Suppose we start." 

We did start ; though I was more than half 
inclined — since he was evidently bent on ac- 
companying me — not to go at all. From the 
way we were beginning I foresaw what would 
be the end, or, at least, I imagined I did. 
Because, of course, what actually did happen 
never entered my head even as a remote 

The lake was more than a mile away from 
the house, amid the pine trees in Mr. 
Glennon's wood ; a lovely walk, particularly 
in that sort of weather. But, as the poet 
does not say, no prospect pleases when your 
temper is vile. The mere fact that I yearned 
to beg Mr. Sanford's pardon for being so dis- 
agreeable made me nastier than ever. It 
may sound incredible ; it is true. Such con 
versation as there was suggested that horrid 
game called 44 Snap," played ill-naturedly. 

44 1" always think a woman looks so graceful 
on the ice." 

44 You won't think so any longer after you 
have seen me." 

44 1 think I shall. I cannot conceive you 
as looking anything but graceful, anywhere, 
in any position." 

44 1 don't think you need sneer." 

44 Miss Boyes?" 

44 Mr. Sanford ? " 

44 1 beg your pardon." 

44 You beg my pardon ? What for ? " 

44 1 don't quite know, but I feel you feel 
that it would be more becoming on my 
part. So I do so. Please will you forgive me ? " 

44 If you have no objection I should prefer 
to turn back. I do not care to skate to-day." 

44 You need not skate. As I have already 
remarked, I am convinced that the ice will 
not bear. But we can at least continue our 

44 1 shall skate if we do go on. On that I 
am determined." 

44 You are not always so aggressive." 

44 Nor are you always so domineering, 
though I admit that as a rule you are. At 
home they must find you unbearable." 

44 1 hope not. I am sorry you find me 
domineering, particularly as you are yourself 
so — plastic." 

44 1 am not plastic. I don't know what 
you mean ; but I am sure I am nothing of 
the kind." 

44 Molly ! " 

We had reached the stile over which you 
have to climb to get into the wood. He 
had crossed first and I was standing on the 
top step ; he was holding my hand in his to 
help me over. 

44 Yes?" 

44 1 wish you would be pleasant to me 
sometimes. You don't know what a differ- 
ence it would make to me." 

44 What nonsense ! I am perfectly con- 
vinced that, under any circumstances, nothing 
I might say or do could be of the slightest 
consequence to you." 

44 Couldn't it ? You try ! " 

44 1 am much too young." 

44 Too young ! Too young ! " 

There was all at once something in his 
voice and manner which gave me quite a 
start. I snatched my hand away and jumped 
down to the ground. 

44 We can't stop here all day if we mean to 
do any skating ; and I for one certainly do." 

I marched off at about five miles an hour. 
He wore an air of meekness which was so 
little in keeping with his general character 
that, at the bottom of my heart, it rather 
appalled me. 

44 1 would sooner be snubbed by you than 
flattered by another woman." 

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-- 1 I L| 1 1 I >.l I \\\ 





** Snubbed by me ! Considering how you 
are always snubbing me, that's amusing. 1 ' 

14 1 never mean to snub you," 

" You never mean to ? Then you must 
be singularly unfortunate in having to so con- 
stantly act in direct opposition to your inten- 
tions. To begin with : you hardly ever treat 
me as if I were a woman at all." 

14 Well, you are not a woman — are you ? — 
quite. ?t 

(t Mr. Sanford ! When you talk like that 

I feel ! Pray what sort of remark do you 

call that ? " 

"You are standing at the stepping-stones." 

" At the stepping-stones ? " 

** Happy is the man who is to lead yon 
across them," 

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u I don't in the least under- 
stand you. And I would have 
you to know that I feel that it is 
high time that I should put 
childish things behind me, and 
I should like other people to 
recognise that I have done so/ 
u Childish things ? What are 
childish things ? Oh, Molly, I 
wish that you could always be a 
child. And the pity is that one 
of these days you'll be wishing 
it, too." 

"I'm sure I shaVt It's 
horrid to be a chiJd." 
"Is it?" 

" You are always being snub- 

"Are you?" 

u No one treats you with the 
least respect, or imagines that 
you can possibly ever be in 
earnest As for opinions of your 
own, it*s considered an absurdity 
that you should ever have them. 
Look at you. You're laughing 
at me at this very moment." 

11 Don't you know why I am 
laughing at you ? Molly ? " 

Again there was something 
in the way in whicn he asked 
the question which gave me the 
oddest feeling — as if I was half 
afraid. Ever since we had left 
the stile I had been conscious 
of the most ridiculous sense of 
nervousness — a thing with 
which, as a rule, I am never 
troubled. I was suddenly filled 
with a wild desire to divert the 
conversation from ourselves — 
no matter how — so I made 
a desperate plunge. 

" Have you seen anything of Hetty lately? " 
He was still for a moment, as if the sudden 
reference to his rousin occasioned him 
surprise, and that not altogether of a pleasant 
kind Though I did not see why it should 
have done. 

14 1 was not speaking of Hetty, Nor am 1 
anxious to, just now." 

"Aren't you? Have you quarrelled with 
her— as well ? " 

" As well ? Why do you say _' as well * ? " 
"Oh, I don't know. You're always quar- 

44 That's not true-" 

u Thank you. Is that a snub, or merely a 
compliment ? n 

Original from 



" Molly, why will you treat me like this ? 
It's you who treat me like a child, not I 

" There's the lake at last, thank good- 
ness ! " 

I did not care if it was rude or not I 
was delighted to see it ; so I said so plainly. 
What is more, I tore off towards it as hard 
as I could. My rush was so unexpected 
that I was clean away before he knew it. 
All the same, he reached the lake as soon as 
I did. He could run ; just as he could do 
everything else. The ice looked splendid ; 
smooth as a sheet of glass. All about were 
the pines with their frosted branches. They 
seemed to stand in rows, so that they looked 
like the pillars in the aisles of some great 
cathedral. And, then, pine trees always are 
so solemn — and so still. 

" Give me my skates, please ; I want to 
get them on at once. Doesn't the ice look 
too lovely for anything ? " 

" It's not a question of what it looks like, 
but of what it will bear." He stepped on to 
the edge. It gave an ominous crack. I 
daresay if he had waited long enough it would 
have given way beneath him. But he did 
not. He hopped back on to the solid 
ground. "You see ! " 

" Excuse me, but that is exactly what I do 
not do. Here it is under the shadow of the 
trees. Besides, the water is so shallow that 
it is practically cat's ice. I'm sure it's all 
right a little farther round ; and in the 
middle. It's often cracky near the edge." 

" I am sure it is not safe anywhere." 

" Will you please give me my skates, Mr. 

He looked at me. So as to let him see 
that I had no intention of being cowed, I 
looked back at him. 

"I hope that, this once, you will be 
advised. I assure you it is unsafe." 

" Please give me my skates." 

He laughed — in that queer way he had 
of laughing at unexpected moments, when 
there certainly seemed nothing to laugh at. 

"Good. Then it is decided. We will 
both go skating." 

" Both ? It is not necessary that we 
should do anything of the kind* I wish you 
would let me do as I like — without criticism. 
Who appointed you to have authority over 
me ? Who suggested that because I choose 
to do a thing you should do it too? I 
prefer not to have you attached to my apron- 
strings. Give me my skates. You can go 
home. I would rather you did." 

" If you skate, I skate also." 

" As you please ; if you can get over your 
timidity. There is room on the lake for two. 
If you will choose one end I will have the 

" I shall skate where you do." 

11 Mr. Sanford ! You are intolerable ! " 

"Indeed, I am disposed to act on your 
courteous suggestion, and go home, and take 
your skates with me." 

" If you do I will never speak to you 

" Don't pledge yourself too deeply. You 
spoke of having put childish things behind 
you. I did not suspect you of having been 
such a mistress of irony." 

" Will you give me my skates ? " 

" Certainly. I will put them on for you. 
Where do you think the ice is — strongest ? " 

We were walking along the bank, I with 
my nose in the air, he white with rage. It 
wasn't easy to make him lose his temper, but 
when you did succeed he was wicked. 

" This will do. I won't trouble you for 
your assistance. I prefer to put on my own 
skates, thank you." 

He dug his heel right through the ice. 

" Do you call this strong ? " 

" I wish $rou would not do that. You for- 
get that I am not quite so heavy as you." We 
went on a little farther. Then I stood on 
the edge. " You perceive that it will bear 
me. Now — for about the dozenth time — will 
you give me my skates ? " 

" I will put them on for you." 

" I have already told you that I will do 
that for myself." 

" Don't be absurd. Sit down on the 
bank." He spoke to me as if I were a slave. 
As it was evidently useless to remonstrate I 
obeyed, placing myself on the sloping bank. 
"There is a condition I must make. If I 
put your skates on first you must promise 
not to start till I am ready." 

" I shall promise nothing of the kind." 

"Then in that case I am afraid I shall 
have to keep you waiting till I am equipped." 

He actually did, too. And, as Dick's 
skates were in rather a muddle, or he did 
not understand them, or something, it took 
him a tremendous time to get them properly 
attached to his boots ; while I sat on the 
bank and froze. But I tried to keep myself 
as warm as I could by an occasional genial 

" You understand, Mr. Sanford, that when 
we do get home 1 will never speak to you 
again. I never want to see you again, 

: The betting is that we never shall get 

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■--■I I '-| 1 1 I u I \\\ 




home again, since it is probable that we shall 
both of us be drowned in the lake. That is> 
if there is a sufficient depth of water to 
drown us," 

"Sufficient depth ! Why, Fm told that in 


places there are twenty feet, I imagine that 
that is enough to drown even you, big though 
you seem to think yourself. Though I totally 
fail to see why we should both of us be 
drowned. Why can't I drown by myself?" 

14 If you drown, I drown/' 

"That is really too ridiculous, Pray, who 
is talking like a child now ? I quite fail to 
see how u can matter to you what becomes 
of me." 

"You do know." 

" I do not know. I have not the faintest 
shadow of a notion." 

" Don't you know ? " 

He twisted himself round, and glared at 
me in such a fashion that I was alarmed. 

" Mr Sanford ! Don't look at me like that ! " 

by \J 


"Then kindly remember tnat there are 
limits even to my patience.' 1 

"I should think that your patience was 
like the jam in the tart : the first bite you 
don't get to it, and the second bite you go 
clean over it," 

"I am glad to be able to 
afford you so favourable an 
opportunity for the exercise of 
your extremely pretty wit. Please 
give me your foot," 

He took it — without waiting 
for any giving. Then immedi- 
ately proceeded to comment on 
it, as if it had not belonged to 
me or as if I had not been there. 
"A dainty foot it is; and 
reasonably shod in decently fit- 
ting boots — not six and a 

li You srill seem not to under- 
stand that my size in gloves is 
six and a quarter." 
M Pm so dull." 

" You are. And something 
Jv else besides." 

He simply ignored my hint 
I hate people not to notice 
when I intend to sting them. 
It makes you feel so helpless. 
He went on calmly discussing 
my foot. 

"It's worth while al towing 
you to flesh the arrows of your 
malice in one's hide for the 
privilege of holding this be- 
tween one's fingers." 
" Do you think so?" 
" I do." 

It was strange how exces- 
sively odd an effect his touch 
had on me. It made me thrill 
from top to toe. I could scarcely speak. 
When I stood, to my amazement I found 
that I was trembling. 

" Are your skates comfortable ? " 
"They seem all right." 
11 Molly, let us understand each other. Are 
you bent on skating ? " 

M I am. Though there is not the slightest 
reason why you should." 

" The ice may be sufficiently thick in 
places, but it certainly is not all oyer, and as 
you don't know where the weak points are 
it svill be at the risk of your life if you venture 
on it." 

"It is strong enough to bear me, though 
it is very possible that it may not be strong 
enough to bear you also. So if you do not 
Original from 




desire to add to the risk on which you are 
so insistent, you will not force on me your 

" If you go, I go also." 

" Then don't talk so much, and come." 

He had been holding my hand. I snatched 
it from him and was on the ice. In an instant 
he was at my side. I was filled with a curious 
excitement. Something had got into my 
blood — microbes, perhaps, of a fever-gene- 
rating kind. The various passages of arms 
which we had had together seemed, all at 
once, to have reached their climax. I was 
seized with a sudden frenzy of resolve to 
show him, once for all, that what it was my 
pleasure to do that I would do. I craved 
for motion ; yearned for movement ; if only 
as a means of relief for my pent-up feelings. 
Longed for a flight through the air ; to rush 
through it ; to race. Especially to race that 
man — or to escape from him. I did not 
care much which. 

I struck out for all that I was worth. As 
I had surmised, the ice was in perfect con- 
dition as regards its surface. Sufficiently 
elastic to enable the blade of one's skates to 
bite on to it ; smooth enough to offer no 
impediment to their onward glide. One 
skimmed over it almost without conscious 
effort The ecstasy of doing something, the 
sense of freedom which it gave, the delight 
of tearing through the keen, clear atmo- 
sphere ; of feeling it upon one's cheeks — 
ruffling one's hair, exhilarating one's whole 
being, breathing it in great gulps into one's 
lungs ; these were the things needed. And I 
had hardly been enjoying them half-a-dozen 
seconds when the bonds which had seemed 
to bind me parted, proving themselves to be 
but the phantasmal creations of a crooked 
mood. And I laughed— in my turn. 

" Isn't it glorious ? " 

44 While it lasts." 

"Why the reservation? Isn't it glorious 
— now ? " 

We had gone right across the lake. We 
swung round at a right angle. 

" I thought it wasn't safe." 

" What's that ? " 

Just my luck ! Scarcely were the words out 
of my lips than there was an ominous sound. 

" That's nothing. I thought everybody 
knew that virgin ice makes eccentric noises ; 
we're the first to test its quality. That shows 
how safe it is." 

" Does it ? I think there may be some- 
thing in your theory about the middle being 
best. Suppose we cross to the other side 

by Google 

The sound did go on. 

" It's because we're skirting the shore. II 
you'll admit that I am right for once in a 
way I'll concede that you may be." 

44 I'll concede anything if you'll come away 
from this." 

41 Then I'll race you to our starting-point!" 

We had been keeping within, perhaps, a 
dozen feet of the land. Sharply turning I 
made for the centre. I had not taken half- 
a-dozen strides when the cracking noise 
increased to a distinctly uncomfortable degree. 
I felt the ice heaving beneath my feet. 
He was at my side — it was preposterous to 
talk about racing him level. He could have 
given me seventy-five yards out of a hundred. 

44 We have struck a bad place. Don't 
stop ; go as fast as you can." 

" I'm going as fast as I can. I shall be 
all right. You go in front." 

" Give me your hand ! " 

44 No ! " 

" Give me your hand ! " 

I did not give him my hand — he snatched 
it. As he did so something went. We did 
not stop to see what. How he managed I 
did not, and do not, understand. But I 
know he gripped my hand as in an iron vice, 
started off at about seventy miles an hour, 
and made me keep up with him. 

" Don't ! " I cried, as well as I could, while 
I gasped for breath. 

41 Come ! " he said. 

And I had to come. And before I knew 
it we were standing on the shore, and I was 
half beside myself with rage. 

44 How dare you ? Do you suppose that I 
am an idiot, and that you can haul me about 
as if you were my keeper ? What did you 
do it for?" 

44 1 fancy I saved your life." 

44 Saved my life ! Saved your own, you 
mean ! You are an elephant, not I ; and if 
you would only relieve the ice of the weight 
of your huge bulk everything would be all 
right. But you are so grossly selfish that 
you hate the idea of anyone engaging in a 
pleasure which you cannot share — and spoil ! 
I'll trouble you to stay where you are — or 
better still, go home — and let me amuse 
myself exactly as I choose." 

44 Molly ! You're not going on again ! " 

44 1 am going on again- I am ! And you 
dare to try and stop me. You dare ! " 

I imagine that the expression of my 
countenance startled him. He had planted 
himself directly in front of me. But when 
he saw me looking like black murder he 
moved aside. In an instant I had passed 

Original from 



him and was off towards the centre of the 

Whether the double burden which the ice 
had had to bear had been too severe a strain 
for its as yet still delicate constitution, I can- 
not say* I only 
know that as 
soon as I was 
clear off the 
shore, in spite of 
my blind fury, I 
realized that 
I really was an 
idiot ? and one, 
too, who was 
badly in need of 
a keeper. It 
groaned and 
creaked and 
heaved in every 
direction, seem- 
ing to emit an 
increasingly loud 
crack with every 
forward stride 1 
took, Mr. San- 
ford shouted : — 

"Molly! for 
God's sake, come 

I recognised — 
too late — the 
reason that was 


" Where can I get a rope ? n 
"•Jennings 1 * farm is the nearest house ; and 
that's the other side of the stile." 

" Do you very much mind waiting there ? 
Ill be back inside five minutes." 

My heart sank 
at the prospect 
of being left 
alone, even for 
an instant 

"I'd rather— 
I'd rather you 
did something 
now. I'm afraid 
— 1/m afraid I'm 
sinking deeper. 
And it's so cold ! 
—Can't you do 
anything at all ?" 

M Til do my 

He did his 
best, while I 
watched. How 
1 watched ! He 
selected a part 
where the ice 
had not as yet 
been subjected 
to any strain, 
and carefully ad- 
vanced towards 
me. It bore 

on his side. But 

the very vigour of his appeal served as a 
climax. I lost my head, 1 did not know what 
to do t where to go, turning this way and that, 
only to find the threats of danger greater. The 
question was settled for me. For the second 
time something went — the ice disappeared 
from beneath my feet — and I went in. 

I fett — when I felt anything— almost as 
much surprise as consternation. Fortu- 
nately, I did not appear to have hit on a 
spot where the depth was twenty feet, or 
anything like it. For, instead of being 
drowned, the water did not come up to my 

II Can you feel the bottom ? " 

The agony of fear which was in Philip 
San ford's voice as he asked the question 
calmed me as if by magic. 

"I think so. I seem to be standing in 
what feels like mud,". 

" Can you get your arms on to the ice and 
raise yourself? If you do it carefully it will 
probably bear you." 

" I am afraid not I seem to be too deep 
in to get a proper purchase,' 3 


him better than 
I— and, perhaps, he — had expected. 

"It's all right," he cried. " I shall get to 
you. Cheer up ; and keep as still as you 
can/ 1 

Then it cracked ; and I feared for him. 
If he should have chanced on a spot where 
the depth was twenty feet, and should be 
drowned before my eyes ! The cracking 
noise grew more instead of less. 

u I fancy I shall do better by lying down 
and taking to my hands and knees. It will 
be spreading my weight over a larger 

He lay flat on the ice, wriggling towards 
me somehow, like a snake. It was a pretty 
slow process, especially as the icy water was 
wrapping my draperies about me and freezing 
the blood in my veins ; and I was either 
sinking lower and lower, or else imagined 
that I was, which was just as bad. At last he 
came within three feet of me— within two — - 
within reach. When I got my hands in his I 
burst out crying. 

" Will you ever forgive me ? 5 ' I sobbed. 

"My darling ! "linal from 





" m always do as you wish me to in the 
future— always— if Vm not drowned !" 

" My sweet ! " 

I did not notice what he was saying to me, 
nor, for the matter of that, what I was saying 
to him- Though I should not have eared if 
I had, I was too far gone. He put his hands 
underneath my arms ; but directly he began 
raising me the ice on which he was lying 
gave way, and, in another second, he was 
standing beside me in the water, Just as I 
was thinking of starting screaming, for I 
made sure that it was all over with both of 
us, he lifted me as if I were a baby, and I 
found that the water scarcely came above his 
waist, and he kissed me- 

And I never was so happy; although, for 
all I knew, at that very moment we might be 

Hut we did not drown. We reached the 
shore ; though it took us a tremendous 
time to do it, because Philip had to break 
every bit of ice in front of us; and, though 
none of it was strong enough to bear, it was 
not easy to break. Luckily, the water grew 
shallower as we advanced So it must have 

been somewhere 
else that it was 
twenty feet 

" Do you think 
you can run ? n 
Philip asked, 
when we stood on 
dry ground at the 

"I can, and 
will, do anything 
you tell me to; any- 
thing on earth I" 
He laughed. 
"It occurs to 
me that it was 
perhaps as well 
you had that little 
attack of eccen- 
tricity just now, 
otherwise it might 
have been ages 
before we arrived 
at an understand- 

I was entirely of his opinion. I knew he 
was right ; but, then, he always is. 

We ran all the way home, except when we 
stopped at intervals to say things ; though 
it was frightfully difficult, because, of course, 
all my clothes were sopping. But I was 
never the least bit ill. Nor was Philip. I 
changed directly I got in, and Philip changed 
Into a suit of Dick's* It did not fit him, but 
he looked awfully handsome^ and so like a 
great overgrown boy. So it did not matter 
if I did behave like a child. 

When Nora and the boys came home they 
opened their eyes when we told them of our 
adventures. And what amazed me was that 
they seemed to take it quite for granted that 
Philip and I should be on the terms we 
were. Dick offered his congratulations — if 
they could be called congratulations — in the 
most extraordinary form* 

" Well, old man, you've escaped one 
funeral, but you're booked for another — 
that's a cert ! " 

The opinions which brothers allow them- 
selves to utter of their sisters are astonishing. 
Fancy Dick calling me a funeral ! 

by Google 

Original from 

Personalities of Football. 

By C. B. Fry. 

HE individual, with his personal 
characteristics, is becoming a 
minor aspect of modern Asso- 
ciation football. The develop- 
ment of the game into a highly 
exact science has been marked 
by the ever-increasing subordination of the 
player to the team. In the days when the 
Old Etonians won the English Cup the 
success of a team depended upon the skill of 
its component players in making individual 
efforts ; nowadays, some of the greatest 
successes are obtained by teams of players 
of moderate individual ability, who ne vert he- 
less, by pulling well together and by working 
on a system of the strictest co-operation, 
attain a remarkable collective proficiency. 

Among club teams of this sort a striking 
example is the Tottenham Hotspur eleven, 
that created so much enthusiasm in Southern 
football last spring by bringing back the Cup 
from its long sojourn in the North. The 
Hotspurs achieved their great feat because 
they were a sound, well-balanced eleven, 

capable of sustained effort on lines of the 
strictest combination. No one of the players 
stood out pre-eminent above his fellows, and 
no one of them, perhaps, would be considered 
a superlatively distinguished footballer. Yet 
the team knocked out the famous Northern 
and Midland clubs one after another. 

It has often happened that the football 
shown by two clubs in the final Cup tie has 
been superior to that of the representative 
teams of England and Scotland in Inter- 
national matches, The representative teams, 
though composed of men picked from all the 
clubs, have often failed to combine well, and 
hence have failed in collective merit But 
ultimately, of course, the skill of a team 
is resolvable into the skill of the players 
that compose it ; and the team of brilliant 
individuals who also carry to its full limits 
the principle of combined play is the best 
team of all 

Probably there has never been a team of 
greater collective proficiency than the Scotch 
team that met England last year and the year 

From a Photo, Ay] 


1AM OF fBdf,= "- - TAWWH * Sem 


f KiUftil <f Son*. Owtal Ffrtac*. 



before, Yet the individual brilliance of its 
parts was altogether remarkable ; and in spite 
of the predominance of the team over the 
individual, much of the interest of football 
is still personal There are personalities that 
stand out from the game and claim particular 

Every member of the last Scotch team, for 
in stance , was a player of exceptional and 
highly interesting merit. Every one of the 
five forwards and of the three half-backs was 
a strikingly skilful and artistic exponent of 
the game ; the two backs, Drummond and 
Rattles, were notable, if not for polish and 
science, at any rate for strength, weight, 

McColl is regarded in Scotland as the 
finest son of the country at centre-forward 
except die famous George Ken Ker, a 
member of the great Glasgow amateur 
club, Queen's Park — the club to which 
McColl also belonged till be joined 
Newcastle United this season as a pro- 
fessional — played in the Scotch team about 
twenty years ago \ so a comparison of the 
two depends chiefly upon reminiscences, and 
is not very valuable, Ker was undoubtedly 
a great forward, so too undoubtedly is 
McColl. Whether on their best form McColl 
or G. (X Smith, the great English centre- 
forward of recent years, should be reckoned 

FrQ'it u PhutQ. lt]f\ 


IHuMtU it Smi* Crtfrtal Palace. 

and uncompromising determination ; and the 
goal-keeper, Rennie, apart from his pro- 
ficiency in the whole duty of keeping goal, for 
his almost cynical readiness, and the uncanny 
coolness of the nervous Celt. An amusing 
instance of his prompt and wide-awake wit 
was his appropriation of the ball at the close 
of play from the very act of fielding a difficult 
shot by (.;, (> + Smith that might well have 
won the match* 

Among these Scots, however, the men 
best known south of the Tweed are the 
centre-forward, R. S. McColl, and the three 
half-backs, A. Auken, J. Robertson, and A. 
(I, Raisbeck. 

the better man, is a much-debated question* 
The truth is they are quite different in style. 
The functions of a centre-forward are two- 
fold ; on the one hand he is the pivot on 
which the forward line hinges and the feeding 
duct for the wing men on either side of him- 
self ; on the other hand, towards goal, he is 
the chief recipient nf the ball from the other 
forwards and the man whose special duty 
it is to shoot goals. Now, great player as 
McColl is in all respects, his pre-eminence 
consists chiefly in his power of turning up 
free and unmarked in front of goal, and 
in his knack of slipping through suddenly 
between the backs and scoring goals from 








long, straightforward passes manoeuvred by his 
comrades- Whereas G. O. Smith, though 
very clever at shooting from all sorts of 
apparently impossible angles and positions, is 
chiefly notable for his sympathetic adroitness 
in feeding with passes his 
brethren on either side and 
in marshalling them into a 
coherently effective line. 
McColl is the faster runner 
of the two, and, therefore, 
more dangerous individually 
in the loose, and he is also 
a more decisively rapid 
dribbler. But in order that his 
virtues may be fully elicited 
his comrades must both 
know and play the game 
that suits him, a game that 
consists principally in their 
working out opportunities 
for his sudden dashes be- 
tween the backs, G, O* 
Smith has never been sur- 
passed for apt convenience 
to all styles of play or for 
a power of leading and 
inspiring the whole line 
McColl is the heavier man 
than his weight because, when he applies it, 
he applies it alk He is imperturbable and 
patient ■ it is when he is standing, hands 
in pocket, apparently cloud-gazing, that he 
is most alert, most watch- 
ful, and most dangerous, 
Never did a nonchalant 
exterior cloak more capa- 
city for sudden action. He 
is curiously surefooted in 
slippery, heavy mud ; but in 
this respect he is no whit 
superior to his English rival. 
Happy the backs and the 
goal-keepers that see little of 
either of them. 

It is said that in the great 
match last year the Scotch 
half-backs succeeded better 
in frustrating G, CX Smith 
than did the English in 
rounding up McColl. Pos- 
sibly this is true, for the 
Scotch half-backs were un- 
conscionably proficient, All 
three are well known on English ground. 
A it ken plays for Newcastle, Raisbeck for 
Liverpool, and Robertson not very long ago 
was with Southampton. 

To Aitken is due in no small degree the 

by GOOglc 

success of the powerful and prosperous New- 
castle club* He was, perhaps, the nimblest 
of the three great halves, and showed 
no whit less dogged activity in defence. 
No matter how fast the sprinting English 
wing -man travelled, Aitken 
was after him s hedging him 
in and worrying for the ball; 
and if he had to rush for 
the ball and was eluded, he 
came to no sudden stop that 
left him standing, but circled 
on uninterruptedly after the 
ball, so that one scarcely 
noticed he had failed at the 
first attempt Only those 
who have laboured through 
ninety minutes of a hard 
game on a heavy ground, 
and that at half-back, can 
fully appreciate the inex- 
haustible stamina, perfect 
muscular condition, and un- 
flagging energy of purpose 
required for such exacting 
football as Aitken played 
against England, and plays 
every Saturday during the League 

Fnan a /'A«f ■. &k tf iifntan. 


With all the athletic characteristics of 
Aitken, but more artistic polish, Robertson, 
"Jack" of the Glasgow football crowd, who 
played left half-back for Scotland, is worthy 
of study. Physically, he is 
an artistic specimen, beauti- 
fully shaped and perfectly 
proportioned, with a round, 
smooth tournure of limb 
that would have pleased the 
maker of the Discobolus, 
looking fitter for the running 
track, # for hurdling or for 
sprinting, than for the more 
rugged athleticism of the 
football field. Yet he is a 
genuine footballer of hardy 
and vigorous fibre : a 
thoroughbred, whose blood 
is for strength as well as for 
speed. In running he has 
not the quick, sometimes 
ungainly, style of the foot- 
baller, but the long, delicate 
stride of the sprinter ; yet he 
emerges from all the hard knocks of football 
just as sound as the more rough-hewn athlete* 
Early in this season he most unfortunately had 
an accident to his eye ; it is said he will have 
to play forwQdcfjftftlffcFfflt at a '^ ^ or ^ ear °^ 




the heavy jar in heading 
the ball at half-back. But 
even if he now gives up the 
game his fame as a foot- 
baller, as such fame goes, 
is secure, 

T he extraordinary 
strength of the Scotch half- 
backs is emphasized by the 
fact that the third, A, G. 
Raisbeck, of last year's trio 
is regarded by many as the 
finest centre- half of the 
present day. Englishmen 
might put forward Frank 
for man of Nottingham 
Forest as a fair rival. Be- 
tween them each at his 
best there is little choice : 
Forman perhaps has the 
finer science and plays 
more accurately to his for- 
wards f but Raisbeck pos- 
sesses more sheer power 
in tackling and in defence. Raisbeck is 
grandly built for football, just verging towards 
weight, yet not beyond activity* He is a 
rapid mover on the field, but his rapidity 
is that of quickness in starting, turn- 
ing, and changing his paces rather than 
that of straight go-ahead speed. There are 
many who might beat him in a fifty yards 
spurt, yet whom he would leave standing in 
the mazy intricacy of following a football 
skilfully interchanged this way and that from 
foot to foot by clever for- 
wa f( 1 s- T h e a m ou n t of t h e 
playing area he can cover, 
and that without losing his 
place — for a half- back 
must never be out of his 
place - is a marked feature 
of his play, as it is in a 
greater or less degree of 
the play of all pre-eminent 
centre half- backs. The 
domain of the centre-half 
is variable in extent accord- 
ing to the player's capa- 
city. If a football field is 
divided into three parallel 
rectangular spaces by lines 
drawn from goal - line to 
goal- line so that the middle 
space is a little wider than 
the two side ones, then this 
middle space is roughly 
the domain of the centre- 
half, It is often pointed 



out that the half-backs are 
harder worked than backs 
or forwards, and that, of 
the halves j the centre man 
is the hardest worked by 
a third, or should be if lie 
does his duty. The reason 
is that, whereas the wing- 
halves have to watch and 
stop the two forwards 
opposed to them, the 
centre-half has not only 
to watch the centre - for- 
ward but to block ex- 
changes of passes to and 
from the centre and the 
wings, so all through the 
game he comes in for a 
large share in stopping the 
two inside-forwards as well 
as his own special adver- 
sary. Whence it can be un- 
derstood why his domain 
of action is widest of the 
three, and also why his work is the heaviest. 
But centre-halves, themselves, differ in the 
width of their domain. The ball goes all over 
the field, up and down, from side to side, as 
freely as the attacking forwards can manage 
to make it consistently with progress 
towards the goal at which they aim. 
Now, the centre -half's duty is to deal 
with and hamper as much of the central 
part of this progressive operation as he can. 
But the limit of his range is his effectiveness : 
it depends on the man how 
far he can go without dis- 
placing himself. Raisbeck 
probably ranges wider 
from side to side than any 
living half-back, yet he is 
effective over every inch of 
the way. The extent of his 
range is due to his extra- 
ordinary power for work, 
and his effectiveness there- 
in to the faculty he shares 
with a few others of being 
always at the right time in 
the decisive place, a faculty 
that depends upon posses- 
sion of an instinct for an- 
ticipating the moves of 
the game, Were Raisbeck % s 
instinct faulty he would 
often be where he ought 
not ; but he is almost al- 
ways right. And a remark- 
,. b» mnchtMfa. Li«Tv«A n^tWfcflP 1111 in his play IS 




that though he ranges so wide he is unsur- 
passed in his performance of his specific duty, 
bottling up and blocking the centre-forward. 
In the last England and Scotland match he 
shadowed G, O. Smith so closely that the 
English centre - forward 
scarcely once was left free 
and unmarked. Raisbeck 
is the captain of the Liver- 
pool team, and it was not 
a little owing to lus play 
and his guidance that this 
club won the champion- 
ship of the great League 
Tournament last season. 

The Football league 
has played a most import- 
ant part in the history of 
modern football. As a 
business organization It is 
a complete success, chiefly 
because its officers — ■ 
among whom Mr. J. J. 
Bendy, the President, is, 
perhaps, the best known 
man — are very able and 
efficient. The clubs with- 
in its fostering fold have, 
by careful management, 
been levelled up to the 
highest standard. Of these, Aston Villa, 
though not at present the champion club, has 
had the most successfully consistent careen 

One of the Villa players, 
J. H\ Crab tree, its captain, 
may be taken as a first- 
rate example of the men 
league football produces. 
He has had an altogether 
remarkable career, in the 
course of which he has 
played for England in five 
different positions, right 
and left back, right, left 
and centre half-back; and, 
curiously enough, on one 
occasion after playing all 
the season through as a 
half-back for his club, he 
was chosen to play at 
back against Scotland, and 
played splendidly. He is a 
tall man and fairly heavy, 
but with weight not so 
much in Ins trunk as in 
his limbs, which are big of 
bone, clean lined, and powerful. After a hard 
career, extending over fourteen seasons, he 
remains one of our picked players. It is 

MH, J. }, HltVTr.V, 

Prom a rhut™. bv Crispin £ Go. 


I'nmt a Phtittt. tiff At/red (rrtrtnifrxMl, }iu-m}ey, 

often mentioned as a matter for surprise that 
he retains such fine form, but as he began 
young, and is not yet thirty, he is a veteran 
by service rather than by years. Though not 
so quick on his feet as when a few years ago 
he was the best half-back 
in the country, he is quite 
fast enough still for the 
position of back, where he 
always plays now, faster, 
indeed, than most men in 
that position. His play is 
ma r k ed by consummate 
judgment in all he docs, 
whether tackling, heading, 
or kicking. No player 
puts more skilfully into 
practice the principle of 
" vis major," enough force 
for tlie instant purpose — 
enough, and no more. His 
style in tackling is very 
taking ; he seems to wait 
upon his man till exactly 
the killing moment, an"d 
then lunges decisively 
with a long, quick stride. 
He is also marvellously 
adept in frustrating passes; 
forwards opposed to him 
underrate the length of his reach and the 
rapidity with which he can dive this way 
or that with his intercepting foot- His style 
in kicking might be cited 
as a model for aspiring 
players* Not only is he 
one of the very few players 
that can use either foot 
with equal facility, but he 
has achieved almost un- 
rivalled accuracy both in 
the length and the eleva- 
tion of his kicks. He 
never, unless by some mis- 
chance, indulges in the 
wild, lofty slogs that send 
the ball very far nowhere 
in particular, to foil an easy 
prey for a telling return : 
he drives the ball low, just 
high enough to clear in- 
tervening opponents and 
just far enough to reach 
his own forwards. Unless 
very hard pressed he never 
kicks without aiming 
definitely to one of his own side. He is 
clever at taking the ball on the full volley ; by 
pointing his iae.. well. Jown and raising his 




knee high he plays the ball after the style of 
a batsman playing forward— a kind of strong 
push with body -weight behind it His 
methods are worth the attention of all who 
would make acquaintance with the finer 
points of back play. He was bom a foot- 
baller, and by intelligent practice has 
mastered the whole art of the game, 

Another veteran — veteran only m the 
eminent sense of the term — is the great 
Sheffield United player, Ernest Needham- 
Epithets of excellence have been exhausted 
in his praise, and in any review of the last 
decade of football he is 
accorded the title of " the 
Prince of English half- 
backs/ 1 He stands with 
the highest, an amazing 
example of genius and 
science in a game, Derby- 
shire born, from the 
Chesterfield district, he 
has played many years 
for his present club* He 
has helped his club to 
gain at one time or an- 
other every honour open 
to it, and for himself he 
has won every distinction 
an individual player may. 
Casually met, he might 
not strike an observer as 
made for football. He is 
short and stock ily built ; 
and in his ordinary 
clothes, or even in foot- 
ball gear, which hangs 
rather wide on hmi, he 
has rather an air of soli- 
dity. Stripped, however, 
he is a picture of square 
activity. Thick, rather 
than broad, in the chest, 
massive in the hips and 
thighs, but small in the 
ankle and very small in 
the foot. His head is set 
low upon rather high 
shoulders, givinga finishing air of compactness* 
He is a concentrated figure^ full stored with 
energy. He wears a grave, almost careworn, 
expression as of one unsparing of himself. 
In the game to which he has devoted his life 
his power of controlling the ball at his feet has 
only been equalled by G. 0. Smith of recent 
years, a control expanding at will into swift 
strength of kicking, or gliding into extreme 
subtlety and delicacy of touch. In a 
maze of difficulties pursuing, if he does 

Digitized by vjOOQ It 


fVttfn a J y fUMto. by H. J. Htdfem, 

not at once get it, the ball from man to 
man, he travels smoothly yet with renewed 
force from check to check as a spinning 
top cannons from the pins on a bagatelle 
board. His method of dispossessing an 
adversary of the ball Is neat to a degree. 
Most half-backs, in tackling an opponent, 
either hook at the ball or lunge for it ; the 
idea being to cut in upon the ball at the 
instant when it is farthest from the for- 
ward's foot, since a forward, unless he gets 
rid of the ball t takes it along by urging it 
forward a yard or so at a time, catching it 
up every other stride or 
so. But Needham makes 
every instant his own. 
Whether the ball is a 
yard or an inch from the 
forward's foot he studies 
not ; but , gaining close 
access at once to his man, 
he leans with nicely placed 
weight against him, and 
his eye ever on the ball, 
he shuffles it deftly into 
his own possession ; and 
then emerges clear with 
it — all as it were in one 
harmonious movement. 
Then he does what he 
likes with the ball for the 
use of his side, always 
striking without pause 
exactly the most oppor- 
tune and negotiable open- 
ing. He has a distin- 
guished way of darting oflf 
with the ball, dribbling 
like a forward, and draw- 
ing on to himself one at 
least, two if he can, of the 
opposing defenders ; and 
if, as often happens, he 
entices a half-back, or 
even a back, to rush for 
him, he secures that one 
or more of his own men 
are left unmarked. That 
is how most of the Sheffield United goals are 
scored: Needham, the ball, a defender drawn, 
an unmarked man, the inevitable pass, and 
then the goal. But no less is he valiant and 
sedulous in defence ; ever the busiest man on 
the field. He seems in times of stress to 
multiply himself into several men — ever 
recurrent at the critical point. He may not 
have— few Southrons have — the peculiar, 
hard-bitten, angular obstructiveness of the 
best Scotch halves; but he has what is 




equally effective, an inspired blend of un- 
blinking watchfulness and masterful cunning. 
Another League player who may rank with 
Crabtree and Need ham as an active veteran 
and a genius is J. \\\ Sutcliffe, the goalkeeper 
of the Bolton Wanderers. 
He kept goal for England 
in the last Scotch match, 
and his form upon that 
occasion was superb. He 
holds, with R- H. Birkett 
and C. P. Wilson, the 
curious and rare record 
of having gained his Inter- 
national cap in both the 
Rugby and the Associa- 
tion game. Wilson, a 
Cambridge man, is the 
most genuine case of the 
three, as he played forward 
at Rugby and half-back at 
Association- Birkett, like 
Sutcliffe, was a goal- 
keeper, and of course the 
resemblance between the 
work of a goal -keeper 
and that of a Rugby 
player is considerable : 
play in each case 

From a Photo, by J. Ridtep. Bolton. 

main points of 
are catching and 
fielding the ball, as well as throwing and 
punting it ; indeed, a goal keeping amounts 
to one man on each side being licensed to 
play modified Rugby. Sutcliffe played back 
at Rugby first of all, but afterwards became 
a three-quarter. He belonged to Bradford and 
Heckmondwike, clubs 
famous in the annals of 
Yorkshire Rugby. It hap- 
pened that in his time 
International matches be- 
tween England and Scot- 
land were in abeyance, but 
he was selected to play for 
England against a visiting 
New Zealand team, and 
would no. doubt have 
played against Scotland. 
His versatility extends be- 
yond football : in strong 
club cricket he is a good 
bat, useful bowler, and an 
exceptional fielder. He 
is also proficient at bo- 
llards and no mean boxer, 
and in his younger days 
he was successful on the 
running track at various 
distances. His career as a 
representative goal-keeper 

VoL xxiiL — SO* 

has been curious. He played against Wales 
nine years ago, and two seasons after- 
wards against Ireland and Scotland, but not 
again until last jear m the memorable match 
at the Crystal Palace. For this match he 
was selected rather un- 
expectedly, as he played 
neither against Wales nor 
Ireland, in preference to 
J. VV. Robinson, of South- 
ampton, another magnifi- 
cent goal - keeper, the 
stand-by of the Selection 
Committee for several 
seasons past It is said 
that Sutcliffe was preferred 
on the ground that he was 
accustomed to severer and 
more exacting tests of skill 
in the Northern league 
matches than was Robin- 
son in the Southern, 
However this may be, he 
gave at the Crystal Palace 
an exhibition of skill that 
Robinson might have 
equalled but could 
scarcely have excelled. He showed himself 
subtly clever with his hands, beautifully quick, 
and marvellously apt in his anticipation of the 
swiftest and most sudden shot. His excel- 
lence would not be appreciated by those who 
did not perceive how he dissipated difficulties 
by his perfect method and judgment. He 
covers his goal - mouth not so much by 
gymnastic activity and 
dash as by a subtle in- 
stinct for being in the 
right place. 

The high quality of 
goal - keeping throughout 
modern football is a feature 
of the game, Such men 
as the giant Foulke, of 
Sheffield United ; polished 
Kingsley, of Newcastle ; 
and imperturbable 
Cleorge, of the Villa, have 
their several admirers, 
who claim they are second 
to none. 

There is nothing in 
athletics finer than a good 
display of combined 
strength and skill in goal. 
A football may appear a 
big mark to see and to 
hold* Cricketers in form 
said "to see her as 

J h \\\ EOHlNMJN. 

by Iht GUX* PKoiQ Cv, , SbulAompfert^. j j ^J^ .p SJ* 

by JoOOglC 





big as a foot ball,*' Bat a 
football is not easy to catch 
and hold even when dry, 
and is very difficult when 
slimy and wet ; and, driven 
from the foot of a Bloomer 
or MeColl, its momentum 
is terrific. Moreover, like 
all round projectiles light 
for their size, a football is 
subject to a swerving flight 
So a goal-keeper requires 
not only quickness and 
accuracy of eye and perfect 
co operation of brain and 
limb, but consummate 
judgment in following the 
flight of long shots, the 
dropping long shots that 
look so easy and are so 
often missed, Then the 
activity required to cover 
the goal space, 8ft. by 24ft, 
is considerable ; for as he 
stands, and may stoop, a 
tall man covers with his 
reach not more than a 
rough ellipse, say, 8ft 
high by 6ft, across. 
Vet a fine goal - keeper 
knows so well where to 
be that not an inch of 
his charge ts out of his control 

Among the League players who may ere 
long, or even now, challenge the fame of such 
men as Needham and Crabtree may- be 
mentioned R, Crompton, of the Blackburn 
Rovers, Crompton, though only twenty-two, 
is captain of the Blackburn 
team, a team with great 
traditions. He has come 
rapidly to the front, and 
might well have played for 
England last year. He is 
a splendid specimen of the 
youth bred on the bleak 
Lancashire uplands, a 
youth unsurpassed in 
hardiness, grit, and love of 
footbalL Football is a 
power in those Lancashire 
towns, and the ambitious 
youth sees glory in the 
game. Crompton with 
natural advantages has 
made himself a fine player. 
The game is in his blood. 
Both in tackling and kick- 
ing and other items of 

ft, cromptok. 

W* J. i»AKI l-V. 

/Win A I'hulu by tluit Jr launder*. 

back-play his style is of the 
best. There is the true 
North -country determina- 
tion in the way he takes 
possession of the ball ; and 
he is master of a fine T 
sweeping, accurate method 
of kicking that is the des- 
pair of the average back. 
Apart from his proficiency 
in the game, he is a plea- 
sure to watch for his sheer 
delight in the sporting side 
of footbalL 

Turning to the amateur 
football of the South, one 
finds a fair proportion of 
exceptional talent Besides 
G. O. Smith, the University 
players who have recently 
attained toplacesinthe best 
England teams are YY\ J. 
Oakley and R. E. Foster, 
both of Oxford and the 
Corinthians, Oakley is a 
back of the very best 
amateur type, playingcloser 
up in conjunction with his 
halves than the Northern 
backs are accustomed to 
play. He is splendidly fast 
as well as tall and heavy. 
He tackles chiefly by sheer weight of leg at 
the end of a long stride, and though he does 
not appear to do much charging, makes his 
opponents feel his strength decisively enough. 
He has always been noted for his nicely- 
measured low kicking, and for his art in 
placing the ball to his for- 
wards so as to make things 
easy for them. So power- 
ful is he in gaining a hold 
of the ball that he rarely 
needs to kick on sight with 
out deliberation ; he draws 
the ball sturdily out into 
his own unhampered con- 
trol and drives it down the 
field with a leisured 
promptness in vivid con- 
trast to the indiscriminate 
hurry of the average back. 
There has probably never 
been a back more effec- 
tively skilful in dealing 
with fast wing forwards ; 
and, for the rest, he is 
almost always, unless 
spaciously evaded, master 

by dOOglC 


Original trorm 



From a PhAia. 

of the occasion. He plays football as might 
be expected from one who has been a good 
sprinter, first-rate hurdler and jumper, and a 
fine heavy-weight oar. 

R. E, Foster is distinguished equally in 
football as in cricket. Last 
year he was chosen to re- 
present England in all three 
International matches. Pre- 
viously he had played against 
Wales, but not against Scot- 
land. In build and appear- 
ance he is an example of the 
best type of Corinthian for- 
ward, just such another, for 
instance, as G, H. Cotterill 
or J, Witch among the 
founders of the distinctive 
Corinthian style of forward 
play; plain passing, that is, 
not too short and as direct 
ahead as possible down the 
field, with every man going 
fast and straight and taking 
the ball in his stride* Foster's 
play, however, is not after 
this pattern, With moder- 
ate pace, but great cunning 
of foot, he excels in close dribbling and 
accurate short passing. Could the lines of his 
progress be visibly marked on the ground the 
result would often be a complex tracery of 
intersecting curves. Such delicate precision 
and subtlety of movement, usually the pre- 
rogative of the lighter men like G. O. Smith 
and Tinsley Lindley, are very uncommon in 
men of Foster's bone and stature. Among 
football players of recent times the only other 
really big man possessing equal cunning of foot 
was Daniel Hodgetts, formerly a famous Aston 
Villa forward* And, strangely enough, 
Hodgetts had the same power as Foster has 
of firing in from long range tremendously 
hard, low, skimming shots. 

Foster can play equally well at inside-right 
and at inside- left The former is his usual 
position, but against Scotland he went inside- 
left to make room for indispensable Stephen 
Bloomer of Derby County. Bloomer together 
with W, C. Athersmith of the Villa formed 
a year or two ago the crack right wing. 
Athersmith has now lost the fine edge of 
his speed, but Bloomer's powers are un- 
diminished, and he remains perhaps the 
most dangerous forward in the three king- 
doms* He is very fast with a long, elastic 
stride, and he can put more powder 
behind the ball than anyone : at the same 
time he is resourceful to a degree and 

full of artifice* He needs less elbow-room 
than anyone hut G. O. Smith. So little does 
he turn the ball aside in avoiding an adver- 
sary that he appears to slip straight through 
a crowd, each man of which he has dodged. 
His deadliness as a goal- 
getter is chiefly due to his 
dash and enterprise in the 
making or taking an oppor- 
tunity: he hangs on the con- 
fines of play like a poising 
hawk and then, when the 
chance comes, swoops 
through with a sudden and 
fatal limn. 

Any sketch of the main 
personal features of football 
would be incomplete without 
some reference to that essen- 
tial adjunct of the game, the 
referee. The importance of 
the referee and of his duties 
has, in general, increased 
with the development and 
extension among the great 
professional clubs of the 
League system. Under this 
system, which provides for 
each club playing every other twice, the 
order Of merit is arrived at by aggregat- 
ing the results obtained by each club the 
season through : consequently every match 
in the competition is equally important in its 
bearing upon the final position of a club. 


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»5 6 


In every match of this sort a good referee is 
required. At the some time, the develop- 
rnent of the game itself from comparative 
simplicity to ever- increasing complexity of 
internal detail has led to a corresponding 
increase in the details of 
the law, and to consequent 
difficulty in administering 
them. The modern referee 
has to be not only a quick 
observer and an off-hand 
judge of the kaleidoscopic 
succession of facts in a fast 

Blackburn Rovers Club, and still does much 
work in connection with the 


of tht: game 
interest, and 
merit of the 

game, but lias to apply the 
somewhat intricate letter of 
the law, to interpret its not 
altogether luminous spirit* 
and to bear in mind the 
not inconsiderable amount 
of precedent that has col- 
lected round the game. Over 
every detail of the game the 
referee stands as judge, 
jury, and counsel in one. 
In addition to his accurate 
knowledge of the law, he 
needs decision of character, prompt tact, and 
a light touch ; and he can hardly have that 
proper feeling for the game without which no 
man is a really good referee unless he be at 
any rate at heart a player. Moreover, it is 
no mean feat of endurance and activity for a 
man to keep as closely 
in touch with the ebb 
and flow of the game 
as an efficient referee 
needs must 

Among the best-known 
and most highly re- 
spected referees of the 
day are Mr* John Lewis 
and Mr. A. Kingscoit 
Mr. Lewis has long been 
connected with football : 
he had a large share in 
the foundation of the 

\ / 


From a rhoto, by R. P. Grtaon,, Blndtbum. 

he spends incessant trouble, 
kindness on the encourage- 
game among junior clubs, 
always with an unflinching 
eye upon the good of the 
players and of the game. As 
a referee on the field he has 
no superior for promptness 
and decision, fty his pro- 
ficiency in a difficult rdk he 
has won as wide a popularity 
and as great a nil me in the 
football world as the most 
noted players. His grasp of 
principle and detail renders 
him invaluable in the council 
chamber. Mr, Kingscoit, 
of Derby, is equally well 
known. He has been 
chosen repeatedly to referee 
the final Cup- tie and other 
great matches. Like Mr. 
Lewis, he has a complete 
knowledge of the game, 
and he is on his own score remarkable both 
for the closeness with which he keeps in 
touch with the fastest game and for the 
lightning quickness of his decisions. It is 
impossible not to admire the ability and 
tact of such referees — especially with many 
instances that supply an 
unfavourable contrast. 
Such men as Lewis and 
Kingscott keep a tight 
hand on the game; yet, 
in spite of the stoppages 
they impose, do not 
seem to interfere with 
the quick current of 
the play. Refereeing is 
really in itself a prac- 
tical science appended 
to a most scientific 

J-Hnn a rfirfn. hg IF, II'. Winter, D r^M- 

by Google 

Original from 

Not so Easy as it Looks. 

By Archibald Williams. From Photos, rv George Newnes, Limited, 

similar simple problems may be able to turn 
to account the collection here made, and 
show that our capacities are in many un- 
suspected little ways more limited than we 

Many men pride themselves on their 
muscular strength. Let a lady place the 
tips of her forefingers together, keeping her 
elbows on a level with her shoulders, and 
challenge any gentleman in the room to 
separate them by a fair pull. Unless she 

the result is 
rather unex- 
pected, for the 
cork, instead 
of flying into 
the bottle, is 
driven out by 
the compres- 
sion of air in- 
side, and hits 
us smartly in 
the face with 
a violence in 
proportion to 
the lung-power 

Those anions 
The Strand 
readers who 
are fond of 
posing their 
friends with 


IVEN a bottle and a cork a size 

L-r than the bottle's neck, to 
blow the cork into the bottle. 
This problem appears so easy that 
we are all prepared to attempt the 

-t- i '-I. A I V A L A1>V"S F"!N<iF\l-. -7 (IS REQUIRES THE 


{"* s^s-^ « I .-. Original from 

be unusually 
weak, or he 
very strong, 

he will pro- 
bably fail; 
and his dis- 
comfiture may 
be fitly fol- 
lowed up by 
the invitation 
to move her 
hand from her 
head or her 
middle finger 
from the tip of 
her nose. 

The Her- 
cules who can 
toy with heavy 
weights should 
be asked to 
break with his 






middle finger a stout wooden match placed 
across the roots of the first and third 
finger- nails. The arm must be held level 
from the shoulder and the fingers kept quite 
straight Even a slight curvature gives suffi- 
cient power to break 
a much stronger thing 
than a match; but we 
place great faith in 
the wooden splinter 
to resist all efforts if 
the conditions be 
properly observed. 

Taper is a tougher 
substance than would 
be inferred from the 
ease with which a 
sheet can be torn. 
But roll a sheet of 
notepaper into a 
cylinder and exert your whole strength to 
pull it in pieces. Here the chances are very 
much against you. 

Another edifying experiment is as follows, 
Two persons face each other. The one 
places his fists on top of one another and 
strives to keep them there while the other 
(by preference 
a lady) strikes 
them sharply 
with her fore- 
fin gcrSj taking 
tare that each 
linger is applied 
to the corre- 
sponding fist of 
her opponent 
The fists fly 
apart as if by 
magic, because 
the muscles 
cannot act in 
two ways a: 
once, and while 
exerting pres- 
sure upward 
and downward 
are at the mercy 
of a smart 
lateral blow, 

unless— and a man can safely risk the strain 
— the lower thumb be secretly inserted into 
the upper hand and held there firmly. 

It is a venerable superstition that an egg 
cannot be broken between the hands. As 
the total number of those who have put this 
to the test is very problematical, there is a 
great chance for someone to make the 
experiment in full assembly, and prove to a 

Jfc KJStifcRS 


by Google 

sceptical world what is the structural power 
of an egg. A fresh et;g would, for obvious 
reasons, be the safest variety to try with. 
And there is really no reason why the most 
timid should not next summer take an egg 

out to sea when bath- 
ing and squeeze it 
under water, where 
there will be small 
danger of spoiling 

But this by the way. 
A cleaner experiment 
requires only a piece 
of strong thread long 
enough to pass twice 
round a man's hands 
and hips, the hands 
being held palms in- 
wards against the side 
of the thighs, We very much doubt whether 
he will be able to break the thread with an 
extending movement of his arms if the thread 
be passed over the middle joints u^the fingers. 
Should he succeed, let him with the thread 
attach the ferrule end of a walking-stick to 
something firm, and, holding the stick at 

arm's length In 
the handle, try 
to break the 
thread. The 
stick must not 
be pulled to- 
wards the body. 
Yet a third 
test, this time 
with cotton, the 
place of the 
stick being 
taken by an 
ordinary lug- 
gage-la bel t 
which is to be 
held between 
the fingers (the 
thumb must 
not be used) 
and pulled. It 
is more likely 
that the label 
will slip from the fingers than that the cotton 
will give way. 

Turning to a different class of experiments, 
we invite our readers to write on a blank 
circle of paper the figures exactly as they 
appear on a clock-face. The circle must not 
be turned round as the figures are added ; 
begin at twelve and work honestly round to 
it again. We have all consulted the clock 
Original from 




WITH ONE EVE Cl-rlSf:i>. 

hundreds of times, and we ought, from sheer 
familiarity, to be able to make short work of 
this puzzle j but our 
eyes art in some ways 
very blind, and before 
the circuit is complete 
we shall probably be 
in trouble. 

How many people 
out of a hundred would 
be ready to lay five 
shillings on their 
ability to say the words 
on the face of a penny 
pos tag e-s t;i m p ? How 
many are certain 
whether the crescent 
of a waxing moon 
points to left or right ? 
And talking of coins, 
how many threepenny- 
bits can be got on a 
half-crown without 
overlapping the edge 
or one another ? And 
how many halfpence 
would make a pile as 
high as the diameter 
of a halfpenny? And 
which of our silver 
coins has a smooth 
edge ? 

Returning for a 
moment to physical powers, can you, with 
eyes shut, tell port from sherry by taste or 
smell ? It is even chances whether an expert 
will not after a change or two become con- 
fused The dependence of taste on sight is 

similarly shown when a man is presented 
with a number of wanned pipes and 
asked to say which of them are alight* 

Put a coin on the edge of a table and, 
with one eye closed, walk quickly up to 
it and knock it off the table. You are 
more than likely to miss it altogether, 
because a single eye is a bad judge of 
distance. The difference of an^le at which 
each eye sees an object gives us the idea 
of solidity and the power of guessing that 
object's position. Hence the solid effect 
of a stereoscopic picture taken simul- 
taneously through two lenses as far apart 
as the human eyes. 

Next procure a silk hat (a friend's is 
as good as anyone else's) and see if any- 
body present can throw ten out of a pack 
of cards into it from a distance of 8ft, 
It is amusing to note how the cards fly 
straight for the hat and in the last few 
inches twist aside and fall anywhere ratlnr 
than within the brim. Like the bad sporting 
shot, you may have a 
better chance if you 
don't aim in the right 

After having tried to 
move your hands simul- 
taneously different ways, 
go and stand tightly in 
the corner of a 
room. Then raise 
the outside leg 
and, if you can, 
keep your bal- 
ance. The centre 
of gravity, as the 
scientists say, is 
upset/ And you 

by \j 




Original from 



will find the same thing 
when you lie fiat on the 
floor and try to sit up 
without raising the heels. 
And you get it again if 
you stand with your back 
to the wall and your heels 
jin. up the wainscoting 
and try to pick up a wine- 
glass set between the 
heels. By the-bye, be- 
fore putting the wine- 
glass away set it on a 
low table and, keeping 
your hands behind you, 
piek it up with your teeth. 
Most people, especially 
those blessed with long 
noses, find this feat diffi- 
cult unless they are wide- 
awake enough to go for 
the farther edge of the 
glass. Not, of course, 
that we hint anything 
W'ellingtonian about the 

A few experiments with 
the fingers. First place your hands palm to 
palm and the finger-tips touching, and separate 
any pair of fingers half an inch. Then, turn- 
ing the third fingers inwards so that the 
middle joints touch, try to separate the middle 
fingers. And finally, tuck a hand under an 


armpit and try to get the 
thumb into the palm. 
Thus is well calculated to 
teach you that the wrist 
muscles are sensitive. 

We can strongly recom- 
mend the following for 
t h e sm ok i ng-r oom . O ff er 
a wager that no one will 
cut a cigar - s 1 1 k clean 
through with a sharp 
knife. Anyone who 
takes you up imperils 
his money badly, for the 
knife ninety-nine times 
out of one hundred cuts 
all the strands but the 
last, which frays out un- 
injured by the blade and 
leaves you the winner. 

We keep for our last a 
feat which, while appa- 
rently of the simplest, is 
a physical apd scientific 
impossibility* Take a 
cotton-reel and remove 
the labels from the ends* 
Centre a penny on one end and stick three 
pins into the wood so that the penny can easily 
fall forwards but not slip sideways. Then, hold- 
ing the reel in the left hand, blow into the 
central hole. The harder you blow the 
tighter the penny sticks! 

l-T FEAT. 


■ J 


* 1 

■4**^ \ 

k£ ■^mKI* \M 

I * r/ * A 

^il R^a 1 

m SM 

- _ ■j^JB' 

Jr^LL m 

H - * . <H 





by LiGOgle 


At Sitnwich Port. 

By W. W. Jacobs, 


ITH a view to avoiding the 
awkwardness of a chance 
meeting with any member of 
i he Nugent family Hardy 
took the sea road on his way 
to the office the morning after 
the captain's return. Common sense told 
him to leave matters for the present to the 
healing hand of Time, and to cultivate habits 
of self-effacement by no means agreeable to 
one of his temperament. 

Despite himself his spirits rose as he 
walked. It was an ideal spring morning, 
cool and sunny. The short turf by the side 
of the road was fragrant under his heel, and a 
light wind stirred the blueness of the sea. 
On the beach below two grizzled men of 
restful habit were endeavouring to make an 
old boat waterproof with red and green paint. 
A long figure approaching slowly from the 
opposite direction broke into a pleasant smile 
as he drew near and quickened his pace to 
meet him. 

** You're out early," said Hardy, as the old 
man stopped and turned with him, 

"'Ave to be, sir," said Mr. Wilks, darkly; 
"out early and 'ome Lite, and more often 
than not getting my dinner ouL 
That's my life nowadays/' 

"Can't you 
let her see that 1 

respects to Cap'n 
said Mr. Wilks, 

her attentions are undesirable?" inquired 
Hardy, gravely. 

il 1 can't be rude to a woman," said the 
steward f with a melancholy smile ; " if I could, 
my life would ha p been very different. She's 
always stepping across to ask my advice 
about Teddy, or something o' that sort. 
All last week she kept borrowing my frying- 
pan, so at last by way of letting 'er see 
I didn't like it I went out and bought 'er one 
for herself. What's the result? Instead o' 
being offended she went out and bought me 
a couple o' neck-ties. When I didn't wear 
*em she pretended it was because I didn't 
like the colour, and she went and bought 
two more. I'm wearing one now," 

He shook his head ruefully, and Hardy 
glanced at a tie which would have paled the 
glories of a rainbow. For some time they 
walked along in silence. 

11 I'm going to pay my 
Nugent this afternoon," 

11 Ah," said the other. 
" I knew what it J ud be with them two on 
the same ship," continued Mr, Wilks. i£ I 
didn't say nothing when you was talking to 
Miss Kate, but I knew well enough/' 

14 Ah,"said Hardy 
again. There was 
no mistaking the 
significance of the 
steward's remarks, 
and he found them 
somewhat galling, 
It was all very well 
to make use of his 
humble friend, but 
he had no desire 
to discuss his matri- 
monial projects with 

"It's a great 
pity," pursued the 
Mr. Wilks, "just 
as everything 
seemed to be 
going on smoothly; 
but while there's 

smart barge over 
Hardy, pointing it 


'canYvoc let iieb see thai her ATTENTIONS are unoelstrable? 
Vol. xxiil— 21 

life there's 
"That's a 
there," said 

Copyright, iqoz, by WW. Jacobs \t\ the United States of America, 

Original from ■ 



Mr. Wilks nodded. "I shall keep my 
eyes open this afternoon," he said re-assur- 
ingly. " And if I get a chance of putting in 
a word it'll be put in. Twenty-nine years I 
sailed with the cap'n, and if there's anybody 
knows his weak spots it's me." 

He stopped as they reached the town and 
said " good-bye." He pressed the young 
man's hand sympathetically, and a wink of 
intense artfulness gave point to his last 

" There's always Sam Wilks's cottage," he 
said, in a husky whisper ; " and if two of 'is 
friends should 'appen to meet there, who'd 
be the wiser ? " 

He gazed benevolently after the young 
man's retreating figure and continued his 
stroll, his own troubles partly forgotten in 
the desire to assist his friends. It would be 
a notable feat for the humble steward to be 
the means of bringing the young people 
together and thereby bringing to an end the 
feud of a dozen years. He pictured himself 
eventually as the trusted friend and adviser 
of both families, and in one daring flight of 
fancy saw himself hobnobbing with the two 
captains over pipes and whisky. 

Neatly dressed and carrying a small 
offering of wallflowers, he set out that after- 
noon to call on his old master, giving, as he 
walked, the last touches to a little speech of 
welcome which he had prepared during 
dinner. It was a happy effort, albeit a trifle 
laboured, but Captain Nugent's speech, the 
inspiration of the moment, gave it no chance. 

He started the moment the bowing Mr. 
Wilks entered the room, his voice rising 
gradually from low, bitter tones to a hurricane 
note which Bella could hear in the kitchen 
without even leaving her chair. Mr. Wilks 
stood dazed and speechless before him, 
holding the wallflowers in one hand and his 
cap in the other. In this attitude he listened 
to a description of his character drawn with 
the loving skill of an artist whose whole heart 
was in his work, and who seemed never tired 
of filling in details. 

4C If you ever have the hardihood to come 
to my house again," he concluded, " I'll 
break every bone in your misshapen body. 
Get ! " 

Mr. Wilks turned and groped his way to 
the door. Then he went a little way back 
with some idea of defending himself, but the 
door of the room was slammed in his face. 
He walked slowly down the path to the road 
and stood there for some time in helpless 
bewilderment. In all his sixty years of life 
his feelings had never been so outraged. 

by Google 

His cap was still in his hand, and, with a 
helpless gesture, he put it on and scattered 
his floral offering in the road. Then he made 
a bee-line for the Two Schooners. 

Though convivial by nature and ever free 
with his money, he sat there drinking alone 
in silent misery. Men came and went, but 
he still sat there noting with mournful pride 
the attention caused by his unusual bearing. 
To casual inquiries he shook his head; to 
more direct ones he only sighed heavily and 
applied himself to his liquor. Curiosity 
increased with numbers as the day wore on, 
and the steward, determined to be miserable, 
fought manfully against an ever-increasing 
cheerfulness due to the warming properties 
of the ale within. 

" I 'ope you ain't lost nobody, Sam ? " said 
a discomfited inquirer at last. 

Mr. Wilks shook his head. 

" You look as though you'd lost a shilling 
and found a ha'penny," pursued the other. 

" Found a what ? " inquired Mr. Wilks, 
wrinkling his forehead. 

"A ha'penny," said his friend. 

" Who did ? " said Mr. Wilks. 

The other attempted to explain and was 
ably assisted by two friends, but without 
avail ; the impression left on Mr. Wilks's 
mind being that somebody had got a shilling 
of his. He waxed exceeding bitter, and said 
that he had been missing shillings for a long 

" You're labourin' under a mistake, Sam," 
said the first speaker. 

Mr. Wilks laughed scornfully and essayed 
a sneer, while his friends, regarding his con- 
tortions with some anxiety, expressed a fear 
that he was not quite himself. To this sug- 
gestion the steward deigned no reply, and 
turning to the landlord bade him replenish 
his mug. 

" You've 'ad enough, Mr. Wilks," said that 
gentleman, who had been watching him for 
some time. 

Mr. Wilks, gazing at him mistily, did not 
at first understand the full purport of this 
remark ; but when he did, his wrath was so 
majestic and his remarks about the quality of 
the brew so libellous that the landlord lost 
all patience. 

" You get off home," he said, sharply. 

" Listen t' me," said Mr. Wilks, impres- 

" I don't want no words with you," said the 
landlord. " You get off home while you can." 

"That's right, Sam," said one of the com- 
pany, putting his hand on the steward's arm. 
" You take his advice." 

Original from 




Mr, Wilks shook the hand off and eyed 
his adviser ferociously. Then he took a glass 
from the counter and smashed it on the 
floor The next moment the bar was in a 
ferment, and the landlord, gripping Mr. 
Wilks round the middle, skilfully piloted him 
to the door and thrust him into the road, 

The strong air blowing from the sea dis- 
ordered the steward's faculties still further. 


His treatment inside was forgotten, and* lean- 
ing against the front of the tavern, he stood 
open-mouthed , gating at marvels. Ships in 
the harbour suddenly quitted their native 
element and were drawn up into the firma- 
ment ; nobody passed but twins. 

u Evening, Mr. Wilks/' said a voice. 

The steward peered down at the voice. 
At first he thought it was another case of 
twins, but looking close he saw that it was 
Mr. Edward Silk alone, He saluted him 
graciously, and then, with a wave of his hand 
toward the sky, sought to attract his attention 
to the ships there, 

"Yes," said the unconscious Mr, Silk, 
"sign of a fine day to-morrow. Are you 
going my way ? " 

Mr. Wilks smiled, and detaching himself 
from the tavern with some difficulty just saved 
Mr, Silk from a terrible fall hy clutching him 
forcibly round the neck. The ingratitude of 

by OC 


Mr. Silk was a rebuff to a nature which was 
at that moment overflowing with goodwill 
For a moment the steward was half inclined 
to let him go home alone, hut the reflection 
that he would never get there softened him. 

" Pull yourself together, 1 ' he said, gravely. 
"Now, 'old on me*" 

The road, as they walked, rose up in imita- 
tion of the shipping, but Mr. Wilks knew now 
the explanation ; Teddy Silk 
was intoxicated. Very gently 
aned towards the erring 
and wagged his head at 

\re you going to hold up 
or aren't you?" 
demanded Mr, Silk, 

The steward 
waived the ques- 
tion ; he knew from 
experience the futil- 
ity of arguing with 
men in drink. The 
great thing was to 
get Teddy Silk 
home, not to argue 
with him. He 
smiled good - tem- 
peredly 10 himself, 
and with a sudden 
movement pinned 
him up against the 
wall in lime to arrest 
another fall 

With frequent 
halts by the way, 
during which the 
shortness of Mr. Silk's temper furnished 
Mr. Wilks with the texts of several sermons, 
none of which he finished, they at last 
reached Fullalove Alley, and the steward, 
with a brief exhortation to his charge to hold 
his head up, bore down on Mrs. Silk, who 
was sitting in her doorway* 

'* I've brought *\m 'ome," he said, steady- 
ing himself against the door-post : " brought 
? im \>me." 

" Brought 1m \>me?" said the bewildered 
Mrs- Silk. 

" Don' say anything to 'im," mtreAted Mr. 
Wilks, " my sake. Thing might 'appen any- 

" He's been like that all the way," said 
Mr, Silk, regarding the steward with much 
disfavour, u I don't know why I troubled 
about him, Vm sure." 

1 1 Crowd roun' 'im," pursued the imagina- 
tive Mr. Wilks. "X)ld up, Teddy." 

Original from 





I'm sure it's very kind of you, Mr. 
" said the widow, as she glanced at a 
little knot of neighbours standing near. 
u Will you come inside for a minute or 

She moved the chair to let him pass, and 
Mr. Wilks, still keeping the restraining hand 
of age on the shoulder of intemperate youth, 
passed in and stood, smiling amiably, while 
Mrs. Silk lit the lamp and placed it in the 
centre of the table, which was laid for supper 
The light shone on a knuckle of boiled pork, 
a home-made loaf, and a fresh-cut wedge of 

"I suppose you won't stay and pick a bit 
o' supper with us?" said Mrs, Silk. 

"Why not?" inquired Mr. Wilks. 

"I'm sure, if I had known,' said Mrs. Silk, 
as she piloted him to a seat, " Vd 'ave 'ad 
something nice. There, now ! If I 'aven't 
been and forgot the beer/' 

She left the table and went into the kitchen, 
and Mr, Wilks's eyes glistened as she returned 
with a large brown jug full of foaming ale 
and filled his glass. 

by Google 

u Teddy mustn't 'ave any," he said, 
sharply, as she prepared to fill that 
gentleman's glass. 

" Just 'alf a glass," she said, win- 
so mely. 

Not a drop/ 1 said Mr. Wilks, firmly. 

Mrs. Silk hesitated, and screwing up 

her forehead glanced significantly at her 

son. " 'Ave some by - and - by," she 


"Give me the jug," said 
Mr. Silk, indignantly. "What 
are you listening to T im for? 
Can't you see what's the matter 
with 1m? 1 * 

'* Not to J ave it," said Mr. 
Wilks ; lt put it ? ere." 

He thumped the table em- 
phatically with his hand, and 
before her indignant son could 
interfere Mrs. Silk had obeyed. 
It was the last straw, Mr. 
Edward Silk rose to his feet 
with tremendous effect and, 
first thrusting his plate violently 
away from him, went out into 
the night, slamming the door 
behind him with such violence 
that the startled Mr, Wilks 
was nearly blown out of bib 

"He don't mean nothing," 
said Mrs. Silk, turning a rather 
scared face to the steward. 
" 'E's a bit jealous of you, I s'pose." 

Mr. Wilks shook his head. Truth to tell, 
he was rather at a loss to know exactly what 
had happened, 

" And then there's 'is love affair," sighed 
Mrs, Silk. " Hell never get over the loss of 
Amelia Kybird. I alw r ays know when 'e 'as 
seen her, he's that miserable there's no 
getting a word out of Ira." 

Mr. Wilks smiled vaguely and went on 
with his supper, and, the meal finished, 
allowed himself to he installed in an easy- 
chair, while his hostess cleared the table. 
He sat and smoked in high good humour 
with himself, the occasional remarks he made 
being received with an enthusiasm which 
they seldom provoked elsewhere. 

(< I should like t 7 sit ] ere all night," he said, 
at last. 

"I don't believe it," said Mrs. Silk, play- 

" Like t' sit 'ere all night," repented Mr, 
Wilks, somewhat sternly. "All nex 5 day, all 

day after, day after that, day " 

Mrs. Silk eyed him softly. "Why would 
Original from 




you like to sit here all that time?" she 
inquired, in a low voice. 

" B'cause," said Mr, Wilks, simply, "b'cause 
I don't feel's if I can Hand. Goo'-night." 

He closed his eyes on the indignant Mrs, 
Silk and fell fast 
asleep. It was a 
sound sleep and dream- 
less, and only troubled 
by the occasional in- 
effectual attempts of 
his hostess to arouse 
him. She gave up the 
attempt at last, and 
taking up a pair of 
socks sat working 
thoughtfully the other 
side of the fire-place. 

The steward awoke 
an hour or two later, 
and after what seemed 
a terrible struggle 
found himself standing 
at the open door with 
the cold night air 
blowing in his face, 
and a voice which by 
an effort of memory 
he identified as that 
of Edward Silk in- 
viting him "to go 
home and lose no 
time about it," Then 
the door slammed be- 
hind him and he stood 
balancing himself with 
some difficulty on the 
step, wondering what 

had happened. By the time he had walked 
up and down the deserted alley three or four 
times light was vouchsafed to him and, 
shivering slightly, he found his own door and 
went to bed. 


Any hopes which Hardy might have enter- 
tained as to the attitude of Miss Nugent 
were dispelled the first time he saw her, that 
dutiful daughter of a strong-willed sire 
favouring him with a bow which was exactly 
half an inch in depth and then promptly 
bestowing her gaze elsewhere. He passed 
Captain Nugent next day, and for a week 
afterwards he had only to close his eyes to 
see in all its appalling virulence the glare 
with which that gentleman had acknowledged 
his attempt at recognition. 

He fared no better in Fullalove Alley, a 
visit to Mr, Wilks elicit! ns the fact that that 

by GoOgJC 

delectable thoroughfare had been put out of 
bounds for Miss Nugent Moreover, Mr. 
Wilks was full of his own troubles and 
anxious for any comfort and advice that 
could be given to him. All the alley knew 
that Mrs. Silk had 
quarrelled with her son 
over the steward, and, 
without knowing the 
facts, spoke their mind 
with painful freedom 
concerning ihem, 

u She and Teddy 
don't speak to each 
other now, 11 said Mr. 
Wilks, gloomily, "and 
to r ear people talk 
you'd think it was my 

Hardy gave him what 
comfort he could. He 
even went the length 
of saying that Mrs. 
Silk was a fine woman* 
11 She acts like a 
suffering martyr," ex- 
claimed Mr. Wilks. 
i£ She comes over 'ere 
dropping hints that 
people are talking about 
us, and that they ask 
*er awkward questions. 
Pretending to mis- 
understand *er every 
time is enough to send 
me crazy ; and she's 
so sudden in what she 
says there's no being 
up to J er, On r y this morning she asked me 
if I should be sorry if she died." 

"What did you say?' inquired his 

11 1 said ( yes/ " admitted Mr. Wilks, 
reluctantly. " I couldn't say anything else ; 
but I said that she wasn't to let my feelings 
interfere with 'er in any way/' 

Hardy's father sailed a day or two later, 
and after that nothing happened. Equator 
Lodge was an impregnable fortress, and the 
only member of the garrison he saw in a fort- 
night was Bella* 

His depression did not escape the notice 
of his partner, who, after first advising love- 
philtres and then a visit to a well-known 
specialist for diseases of the heart, finally 
recommended more work, and put a generous 
portion of his own on to the young man's 
desk. Hardy, who was in air evil temper, 
pitched it oij to the floor and, with a few 
Original from 


1 66 


incisive remarks on levity unbecoming to age, 
pursued his duties in gloomy silence. 

A short time afterwards, however, he had 
to grapple with his partner's work in real 
earnest For the first time in his life the 
genial shipbroker was laid up with a rather 
serious illness. A chill caught while bathing 
was going the round of certain unsuspected 
weak spots, and the patent, who was of an 
inquiring turn of mind, was taking a greater 
interest in medical works than his doctor 
deemed advisable. 

" Most interesting study/' he said, faintly, 
to Hardy, as the latter sat by his bedside one 
evening and tried to cheer him in the usual 
way by telling him that there was nothing 
the matter with him. "There are dozens of 
different forms of liver 
complaint alone, and 
I've got 'em all" 

" Liver isn't much," 
said his visitor, with the 
confidence of youth* 

" Mine is," retorted 
the invalid ; " it's twice 
its proper size and still 
growing. Base of the 
left lung is solidifying, 
or I'm much mistaken ; 
the heart, instead of 
waltzing as is suitable 
to my time of life, is 
doing a galop, and every- 
thing else is as wrong 
as it can be," 

41 When are you 
coming back?" inquired 
the other. 

" Back ? ?I repeated 
Swann. " Back ? You 
haven't been listening. 
I'm a wreck* All 
through violating man's 
primeval instinct by 
messing about in cold 
water. What is the 
news ? " 

Hardy pondered and 
shook his head. 
" Nugent is going to 
be married in July," he said, at last. 

11 He'd better have had that trip on the 
whaler/ 1 commented Mr. Swann ; " but that 
is not news. Nathan Smith told it me this 

11 Nathan Smith?" repeated the other, in 

* ( I've done him a little service," said the 
invalid. " Got him out of a mess with 

by Google 

Garth and Co. He's been here two or three 
times, and I must confess I find him a most 
alluring rascal." 

" Birds of a feather " began Hardy, 


* b Don't flatter me," said Swann, putting 
his hand out of the bed-clothes with a de- 
precatory gesture* " I am not worthy to sit 
at his feet. He is the most amusing knave 
on the coast. He is like a sunbeam in a 
sick room when you can once get him to talk 
of his experiences. Have you seen young 
Nugent lately ? Does he seem cheerful ? " 
" Yes f but he is not," was the reply. 
" Well, it's natural for the young to marry/' 
said the other, gravely. " Murehison will be 
the next to go, I expect." 

"Possibly," returned 
Hardy, with affected 

41 Blaikie was saying 
something about it this 
morning," resumed 
Swann, regarding him 
from half-closed lids, 
u but he was punching 
and tapping me all 
about the ribs while he 
was talking, and I didn't 
catch all he said, but I 
think it's all arranged. 
Murchison is there 
n early every day, I 
understand ; I suppose 
you meet him there?" 

Mr. Hardy, whistling 
softly, rose and walked 
round the room, uncork- 
ing medicine bottles 
and sniffing at their 
contents. A smile of 
unaffected pleasure lit 
up his features as he 
removed the stopper 
from one particularly 
pungent mixture. 

"Two tablespoon fuls 
three times a day/ 5 he 
read, slowly. " When 
did you have the last, 
Swann ? Shall I ring for the nurse ? " 

The invalid shook his head impatiently. 
" You're an ungrateful dog," he muttered, 
u or you would tell me how your affair is going. 
Have you got any chance ? " 

" You're getting li^ht-headed now," said 
Hardy, calmly. <l I'd better go." 

" All right, go then," responded the invalid; 
" but if you lose that girl just for the want of 

Original from 





a little skiHed advice from an expert, you^ll 
never forgive yourself — I'm serious." 

" Well, you must be ill then," said the 
younger man, with anxiety. 

"Twice," said Mr. Swann, lying on his 
back and apparently addressing the ceiling, 
11 twice I have given this youQg man in- 
valuable assistance, and each time he has 

Hardy laughed and, the nurse returning to 
the room, bade him u good-bye"and departed. 
After the close atmosphere of the sick room 
the air was delicious, and he walked along 
slowly, deep in thought From Nathan 
Smith his thoughts wandered to Jack Nugent 
and his unfortunate engagement, and from 
that to Kate Nugent. For months he had 
been revolving impossible schemes in his 
mind to earn her gratitude, and possibly that 
of the captain, by extricating Jack. In the 
latter connection he was also reminded of 
that unhappy victim of unrequited affection, 
Edward Silk. 

It was early to go indoors, and the house 
was dull. He turned and retraced his steps, 
and, his thoughts reverting to his sick partner, 
smiled as he remembered remarks which that 
irresponsible person had made at various 
times concerning the making of his last will 
and testament. Then he came to a sudden 
standstill as a wild, forlorn-hope kind of idea 
suddenly occurred to him. He stood for 
some time thinking, then walked a little way, 
and then stopped again as various difficulties 
presented themselves for solution. Finally, 
despite the lateness of the hour, he walked 
back in some excitement to the house he had 
quitted over half an hour before with the 
intention of speaking to the invalid concern- 
ing a duty peculiarly incumbent upon elderly 
men of means. 

The nurse, who came out of the sick room, 
gently closing the door after her, demurred a 
little to this second visit, but, receiving a 
promise from the visitor not to excite the 
invalid, left them together. The odour of 
the abominable physic was upon the air. 

11 Well ? " said the invalid. 

" I have been thinking that I was rather 
uncivil a little while ago," said Hardy. 

44 Ah ! " said the other. " What do you 
want ? " 

"A little of that skilled assistance you 
were speaking of." 

Mr. Swann made an alarming noise in his 
throat. Hardy sprang forward in alarm, but 
he motioned him back. 

" I was only laughing," he explained. 

Hardy repressed his annoyance by an 

effort, and endeavoured, but with scant 
success, to return the other's smile. 

" Go on," said the shipbroker, presently. 

" I have thought of a scheme for upsetting 
Nugent's marriage," said Hardy, slowly. "It 
is just a forlorn hope which depends for its 
success on you and Nathan Smith." 

" He's a friend of Kybird's," said the other, 

"That is the most important thing of all," 
rejoined Hardy. "That is, next to your 
shrewdness and tact ; everything depends 
upon you, really, and whether you can fool 
Smith. It is a great thing in our favour that 
you have been taking him up lately." 

" Are you coming to the point or are ycu 
not ? " demanded the shipbroker. 

Hardy looked cautiously round the room, 
and then, drawing his chair close to the bed, 
leaned over the prostrate man and spoke 
rapidly into his ear. 

" What ? " cried the astounded Mr. Swann, 
suddenly sitting up in his bed. " You 
— you scoundrel ! " 

" It's to be done," said Hardy. 

" You ghoul ! " said the invalid, glaring at 
him. " Is that the way to talk to a sick man ? 
You unscrupulous rascal ! " 

" It'll be amusement for you," pleaded the 
other, " and if we are successful it will be the 
best thing in the end for everybody. Think 
of the good you'll do." 

" Where you get such rascally ideas from, 
I can't think," mused the invalid. "Your 
father is a straightforward, honest man, and 
your partner's uprightness is the talk of 

" It doesn't take much to make Sunwich 
talk," retorted Hardy. 

" A preposterous suggestion to make to a 
man of my standing," said the shipbroker, 
ignoring the remark. " If the affair ever 
leaked out I should never hear the end 
of it." 

" It can't leak out," said Hardy, " and if it 
does there is no direct evidence. They will 
never really know until you die ; they can 
only suspect." 

" Very well," said the shipbroker, with a 
half-indulgent, half-humorous glance. " Any- 
thing to get rid of you. It's a crack-brained 
scheme, and could only originate with a 
young man whose affections have weakened 
his head — I consent." 

" Bravo ! " said Hardy and patted him on 
the back ; Mr. Swann referred to the base of 
his left lung, and he apologized. 

" I'll have to fix it up with Blaikie," 
said the invalid, lying down again. "Murchi- 


■-■l l LJ 1 1 l u 1 1 1 ■_» 




son got two of his best .patients last week, so 
that it ought to be easy. And besides, he is 
fond of innocent amusement." 

" I'm awfully obliged to you/' said 

"It might be as well if we preLended 
to quarrel/ 1 said the invalid, reflectively, 
"especially as you are known to he a friend 
of Nugent s. Well have a few words —before 
my housekeeper if possible, to insure pub- 
licity — and then you had better not come 
again. Send Silk instead with messages/' 

Hardy thanked him and whispered a 
caution as a footstep was heard on the land- 
ing, The door opened and the nurse, followed 
by the housekeeper bearing a tray, entered 
the room. 

"And I can't be worried about these 
things/ 1 said Swann, in an acrimonious voice, 
as they entered. "If you are not capable of 
settling a simple 
question like that 
yourself, ask the 
office-boy to in- 
struct you," 

"It's your 
work," retorted 
Hardy, " and a 
nice mess it*s in." 

" H'sh ! " said 
the nurse , coming 
forward hastily. 
"You must leave 
the room, sir. I 
can't have you 
exciting my 

Hardy be- 
stowed an indig- 
nant glance at 

" Get out ! ■ said that 
gentleman, with extra- 
ordinary fierceness for 
one in his weak condi- 
tion. "In future, nurse, 
I won't have this person 
admitted to my room/ 1 

" Yes, yes ; certainly/' said the nurse. 
"You must go, sir ; at once, please/ 9 

"Tm going/' said Hardy, almost losing his 
gravity at the piteous spectacle afforded by 
the housekeeper as she stood, still holding the 

tray and staring open-mouthed at the com- 
batants. " When you're tired of skulking in 
bed, perhaps youll come and do your share 
of the work. 1 ' 

Mr. Swann rose to a sitting position, and 
his demeanour was so alarming that the 
nurse, hastening over to him, entreated him 
to lie down, and waved Hardy peremptorily 
from the room. 

"Puppy!" said the invalid, with great 
relish. "Blockhead!" 

He gazed fixedly at the young man as he 
departed and then, catching sight in his turn 
of the housekeeper's perplexity, laid himself 
down and buried his face in the bed-clothes. 
The nurse crossed over to her assistant and, 
taking the tray from her, told her in a sharp 
whisper that if she ever admitted Mr, Hardy 
again she would not be answerable for the 

puppy!" said tub invalid." 

{Tq bt continued*) 


^ Google 

Original from 

From Behind the Speaker s Chair. 



UP to the present time of writing 
urgent. Mr. Balfour has given no indica- 
tion of the lines upon which he 
proposes to amend the Rules of Procedure, 
Since the close of the first Session of the 
Parliament of King Edward it has been 
clear that no new one could be entered upon 
under the conditions that 
ruled — or, to be precise, 
failed to rule— the sittings 
of last year. 

To do him justice, Mr. 
John Redmond has not left 
any excuse for neglecting 
the duty. Engaged during 
the Recess in endeavour to 
raise money to pay the 
weekly wage of the large 
section of his following who 
draw it, he has felt it neces- 
sary to extol their achieve- 
ments last Session and 
promise still greater success 
in accomplishment of the 
avowed purpose of the Irish 
Party to make business im- 
possible in the House of 


OLD STYLE to boast of 

and new. the opening 

century. With a 
command, a rank 

mr, John redmond: 

tiBC— PUT- 

certainly has much 
in its influence on 
Session of the first 
of the twentieth 
pinchbeck Parnell 
and -file mediocre 

comparison with 
the brilliant Irish- 
man who made 
things lively at 
Westminster from 

1875 lnt0 lne ear 'y 
So's, the perform- 
ance of last Session 
is, from a pictorial 
and rhetorical 
point of view, a 
little flat. In 
actual effect it will 
bear comparison 
with the more strik- 
ing campaigns 
through which Mr, 
Joseph Gillis 
Biggar lived, Mr. 



Redmond's tactics, to some extent compelled 
by reforms already established by the proce- 
dure rules, widely differ from Mr. Parnell's. 
His object is to avoid dramatic scenes, to 
flout the authority of the Chair as far as is 
safe, avoiding penalty by swift subsidence 
and prompt apology at the very moment 
when the Speaker is about 
to rise and exert such 
authority as he is invested 
with. This is not magnifi- 
cent, but it is effective war. 
Not many scenes disturbed 
the progress of last Session. 
Yet the amount of work 
done was exceedingly small. 
Two un heroic 

THE n ff . ■ 

but effective 

„.„*.*.** weapons were 
questions, r t * 

ever in the 

hands of the Irish members. 
One was the putting of 
questions ; the other insis- 
tence on hopeless divisions. 
Last year the House sat on 
118 days, little more than 
half the duration of the 
Session of 1893-4, which 
numbered 226 days. Nevertheless, thirty- 
two more divisions were taken, the number 
of questions being diminished by only 
eighty-six. As a division takes on the 
average a quarter of an hour, we have 
120 hours, more than thirteen working days 

of the Session, oc- 
cupied in walking 
round the lobbies, 
As to questions, 
6,448 were handed 
in at the table and 
appeared on the 
Notice Paper, 
printed at the ex- 
pense of the tax- 
payer* That is an 
inadequate state- 
ment of the opera- 
tion of this 
deliberate trifling 
with public time. 
There were few 
nights during 
which the number 

by Google 

Original from 





of questions on the paper was not 
at least doubled by what are known as 
"supplementary questions/ 1 It is safe to 
say that during last Session at least 12,000 
questions were addressed to Ministers, of 
which probably i t ooo were designed with 
the honest purpose of obtaining information 
useful to the public service. The triviality 
of the rest unfortunately does not mitigate 
their obnoxiousness. Not only do they take 
time in the putting and answering. They 
involve much labour in the departments con- 
cerned, where particulars have to be hunted 
up and replies prepared for the Ministers to 
read at the table. 

It is admitted that it will be 
difficult effectively to deal with 
the question of vexatious divi- 
sions. It closely touches those 
sacred rights of a minority upon which 
Obstruction diligently trades. Indirectly, the 
closure, indispensable and beneficent though 
it be, plays into the hands of Obstruction by 
making possible an extra division. The 
closure may cut short a speech avowedly 
obstructive, hut the practitioner sits down 
with the pleased assurance that* though he be 
shut up, a quarter of an hour will be wasted 
in dividing on the closure. 

In the matter of questions the case is 
quite different. The majority of the House, 
concerned for its reputation and its efficiency 
as a legislative machine* have at hand a 
simple and effective instrument. Questions 
should be printed, 
together with the an- 
swers they elicit, and 
circulated with the 
votes. That would 
strike a deadly blow 
at the twin sisters, 
political obstruction 
and personal vanity, 
responsible for the 
existing and growing 
scandal. The putting 
of questions is at once 
the cheapest and the 
most remunerative 
advertisement a mem- 
ber can devise. The 




more malign the intent 

of a question, the more extravagant its 
form, the more likely is it to result in one 
of those scenes which newspapers chariest 
of devoting space to Parliamentary debate 
are careful to report verbatim. By the 
printing of questions and answers these 
opportunities would be lost. At least an 

by Google 

hour would be saved in the freshest time 
of every sitting, and there would be no 
concurrent disadvantage to the public 

There are undoubtedly, perhaps a dozen 
times in the Session, crises when it is desir^ 
able that the leader of the Opposition should 
have, at brief notice, opportunity of ques- 
tioning the leader of the House across the 
table. That contingency could easily be 
provided for in framing the suggested new 

Another lesson gained by the 
experience of last Session is the 
impossibility of living under the 
rules governing private business. 
Like others, they were all very well at the 
time when they became Standing Orders. 
Private Bills were few in number, and, with 
rare exception, the intervention or the House 
was sought merely to confirm the conclusion 
arrived at by the Select Committee. Now, 
private Bills are counted by the score. The 
labour of the Select Committee, which alone 
has had opportunity of mastering the facts 
and bearings of the questions, is ignored. 
Lobbying is carried on openly for days before 
the Bill comes before the House on the 
report stage, and private influence is un- 
sparingly used to bring members to vote 
"Aye" or "No" on a local question of which 
they are absolutely ignorant. 

Last Session it happened, more than once 
in some weeks, that public business was 
deferred for three or 
four hours whilst a 
private Bill was 
wrangled over. Mem- 
bers in charge of an 
ordinary Bill must take 
their chance at the 
ballot of finding a day 
for bringing it on. 
The promoters of Bills 
affecting municipal cor- 
porations or private 
companies may select 
any day of the week 
most convenient to 
themselve and appro- 
priate it, with the cer- 
tainty that, however 
urgent may be public business appointed 
for the same day, it must stand aside till 
their little Bill has been disposed of. It 
would seem that such a condition of 
things in the Imperial Parliament needs 
only to be stated in order to be swept 

Original from 




Another matter loud y caihng for 

COMMITTEE c j ■ /- * 

reform is procedure in Committee 
of Supply. The rule introduced 
a few years ago by Mr. Balfour, 
whereby, immediately after Supply is set up, 
one night a week is appointed for dealing 
with the Estimates, has worked admirably. 
Never during the past thirty years has national 
expenditure received fuller or more deliberate 
consideration. Fairly dealt with, the rule 
would serve. But obstruction, persistent, 
systematic, ruthless, clogs the wheels of the 
simple machinery, Friday nights in the early 
weeks of the Session are wasted in idle talk 
and mischievous divisions. The result is 
that towards the end of the Session, when all 
but three of the allotted nights are exhausted, 
there remain batches of Votes which are 
hurried through by the automatic closure to 
the accompaniment of 
cries of " Gag, gag ! " 
from the Irish mem- 
bers who have made its 
intervention necessary. 

What is required to 
meet this form of ob- 
struction is the appoint- 
ment at the commence- 
ment of the Session of 
a Committee composed 
of members on both 
sides who, going through 
the Estimates, shall allot 
to various groups certain 
portions of the available 
time for Committee of 
Supply. This would 
prevent the familiar 
scandal of whole nights 
being given in the early 
part of a Session to comparatively imma- 
terial votes, those representing vast expendi- 
ture, involving questions of high policy, being 
left to scramble for what scraps they can get. 
Commenting in the August Num- 
the coNGfe her on the costs of the installa- 
d'^lire. tion of a new Bishop, I wrote : 
"As everyone knows, whilst the 
gift of a Bishopric rests with the Prime 
Minister, the nominee is elected by the Bench 
of Bishops/' I have long been accustomed 
through the Parliamentary Session to receive 
on the publication of The Strand Magazine 
letters from unknown friends dwelling in all 
parts of the world. Never in respect of a 
single passage in these reflections has such a 
shower of correspondence descended upon 
my abashed head as followed upon this 
maladroit sentence. I seem to have heard 


by Google 

from all the rectories and vicarages in Eng- 
land. In only one case was stern rebuke 
conveyed. The writer was a Dean, who 
mentioned that he was just going off for a 
holiday. An abiding sense of duty con- 
strained him to rap my ignorant knuckles 
before he started for what I trust proved a 
pleasant and health -giving trip. 

Of course, Bench of Bishops was a slip for 
Dean and Chapter. It is to that august 
body that the c&ngk d'ilire is addressed, con- 
veniently accompanied by a letter communi- 
cating the name of the person whom the 
Prime Minister intends shall succeed to the 
vacant see. They are bound to accept this 
hint* under pains and penalties of praemunire. 
How those penalties might or could 
be enforced is, I am assured on high 
authority , a matter of some doubt There 
is an ancient tradi- 
tion in the House of 
Commons that a 
Speaker, in the Chair 
long before the new 
Procedure Rules were 
passed, gravely threat- 
ened a disorderly mem- 
ber that if he did not 
mend his manners he 
would " name him/' 
Privately asked what 
would follow thereupon, 
the Speaker fervently re- 
sponded, " Heaven only 
knows ! * As no case 
has arisen where a 
Chapter have refused 
to elect the Ministerial 
nominee the mystery 
surrounding the conse- 
quent penalties remains unfathomed. 

It might be worth consideration 
A solemn whether, when suitable oppor- 
farce. tunity presents itself, the matter 
might not be brought to the test. 
With few exceptions, my correspondents 
condemn the present system. It is farcical 
without the redeeming grace of humour. It 
is approached from two points of criticism. 
Some of the writers dwell upon the solemn 
absurdity of the procedure — the Prime 
Minister approaching the Dean and Chapter 
with, in one hand, a document giving them 
leave to elect a Bishop, in the other a private 
note telling them whom to elect Where- 
upon the reverend and very reverend 
gentlemen solemnly meet and, with singular 
unanimity, choose the man whom the 
Minister of the day delights to honour. 

Original from 




I offices in 
\ with the 
the Court 

Others, taking a graver view of the situation, 
denounce the procedure as an offence and 
affront to the Church. There are, of course, 
honourable exceptions to the rule. But the 
rule is that the best possible man for a 
particular Bishopric that chances to fall 
vacant is found in the 
political camp of the 
Ministry of the day. 
Assuming that the 
Dean and Chapter 
are the best possible 
electoral body — ■ and 
none of my corre- 
spondents question it 
— it would be better 
both for Church and 
State that they should 
be left absolute free- 
dom of choice. 

claims to 
pe rform 
by His Majesty found 
none more quaint than 
that of the Barons of 
the Cinque Ports. 
They asserted theiwh; 
to carry a canopy over 
the Sovereign in the 

procession through Westminster Hall, and 
afterwards to sit at a table spread on his 
right hand at the Coronation Banquet. The 
privilege is enshrined in a charter signed by 
Edward L But it is much older. When 
Henry II I. married Eleanor, daughter of 
Hugh Earl of Provence, the bold Barons 
from the Cinque Ports, arrayed in purple 
silk and fine linen, carried aloft the canopy 
under which the young Queen stepped on 
her passage through Westminster Hall. The 
claim j duly considered, has been disallowed, 
and a picturesque by-play, carrying a prosaic 
century back to Plantagenet times, will 
never more be seen in London, 

These " Honours at Court," as the busi- 
ness is styled in the charters of the Ports, 
were conceded within the lifetime of some 
who will read of the Coronation of King 
Edward VII. When, on the 19th July, 
1 82 1, George IV. was crowned, the Barons 
of the Cinque Ports played a brave part in 
the pageant. There were fifteen in all, re- 
presenting Sandwich , Hastings, Hythe, Rye, 
Winchelsea, Romney, and Dover There 






by Google 

should have been sixteen, but Henry 
Brougham, Baron for the Port of Winchelsea, 
begged off. He had a short time previously 
taken a prominent part in the trial of Queen 
Caroline, When informed of the dis- 
tinguished honour awaiting him on Corona- 
tion Day the future 
Lord Chancellor wrote 
intimating that '* in 
the peculiar circum- 
stances in which he 
was placed he felt 
himself under the 
necessity of most re- 
spectfully soliciting 
permission to decline 
the distinguished 
honour of canopy- 

for pos- 
terity there 
were, in 
a d d ition 
to the Barons, the two 
solicitors to the Ports, 
John Shipden and 
William Ff>wle, These, 
in their professional 
capacity , accompanied 
the Barons, and wrote 
a detailed account of 
their adventures in 
London, which was dis- 
creetly withheld from the cognizance of the 
Court of Claims. The document was a short 
time ago found among the musty archives of 
the Borough of Hythe* The reading well 
rewards the trouble of deciphering the faded 
handwriting. A few days before the Corona- 
tion the Barons foregathered at the Thatched 
House Tavern, in St. James's Street, and 
arranged their plan of campaign. Although 
on business of State bent they were of 
frugal mind. Prepared to carry the 
canopy, they were not disposed to bear its 
expense, They were, therefore, the more 
punctilious in describing the article which, 
according to ancient usage, became their 
property at the close of the proceedings. 
They cited ancient ordinances, testifying 
that the canopy should be wrought of 
gold or purple silk, upon four silver staves. 
Each staff had four corners, and at each 
corner there hung a silver bell, gilt with gold. 
"Which canopy, staves and bells, the said 
Barons who bear them have been accustomed 
to have and take as their own fee for the 
said services/' Moreover, they claimed the 

Original from 



right of dining at a table in the Great Hall 
of Westminster when the King and Queen 
dine, at the right hand of the King and 
Queen, and to have cloth for vestments at 
the King's expense. 

A long interval followed, silence falling on 
the scene after dispatch of their formal 
demand. Letters were written to the Earl 
Marshal, to the Home Secretary, and to the 
Lord High Chamberlain, pointing out that 
14 the day for the Coronation is fast approach- 
ing, and as we have received no positive 
answer on the subject of the Barons' Table, 
we are naturally in a state of great anxiety 
and suspense/'* At one of the meetings an 
exceptionally bold Baron 
proposed to pass a resolu- 
tion to the effect that unless 
the Barons have their full 
rights and privileges as ad- 
mitted by the Court of 
Claims they will be com- 
pelled to decline the 
canopy service altogether. 
This was alluring. But a 
more puny Baron suggest- 
ing that possibly the open- 
ing thus proffered would 
be promptly seized and 
they shunted altogether, 
the subject dropped. 

It all came 

glorious right in the end, 

apparel, except that the 
Barons were 
obliged to pay for their 
own vestments. These were 
fearfully and wonderfully 
made. To begin with, 
there were white kid shoes, 
above which flamed crim- 
son silk hose, with rosettes 
at the knee, To a scarlet 
satin doublet with gold 
twist buttons and braidings were hung scarlet 
satin sleeves, with cuffs ornamented with gold 
twist braidings and rosettes. A laced frill round 
the collar of the doublet was surmounted by 
a full standing muslin ruff. The trunk hose 
was of purple satin, with scarlet satin strap- 
pings bordered with gold twist A tunic of 
purple satin and scarlet silk lining, with 
purple satin robings, was suspended from 
each shoulder. This gorgeous array was 
crowned by a black velvet Spanish hat, with 
one scarlet and two black ostrich feathers 
turned up in front by gold twist looped 
and buttoned. For all arms the Barons wore 
a dress sword thrust in a purple velvet belt. 

At the close of fourscore years the mind 
lingers fondly over the picture of Henry 
Brougham temporarily casting aside his 
famous check suit and donning this array. 
Possibly consciousness of what was in store 
for him in this direction, rather than any 
pricking of conscience in the matter of 
Queen Caroline, induced him to decline the 

At five o'clock on the morning 
of the Coronation the Barons 
met at Somerset House, and 
having, with the assistance of 
retainers, got into these wondrous 





LORD BftOunilAH 

clothes, they entered their barge and were 
rowed to Westminster Hall. 
There their troubles com- 
menced. In vain had the 
solicitors importuned the 
authorities for permission 
to have a rehearsal of the 
duty assigned them, Not 
one of them had ever 
assisted in the carrying of 
a canopy* What if, upheld 
by unaccustomed hands, 
it should, at a critical 
moment, come down on 
the Royal pate ? Cold 
perspiration stood on the 
Barons' brows as they con- 
templated this contingency. 
One of the officers in atten- 
dance, acquainted with 
their dilemma, suggested 
that as the day was yet 
young they might trot up 
and down Westminster 
Hall with the canopy. This 
they did, but the galleries 
being already filled, their 
struggles with the canopy 
■ attracted such embarrass- 
ing measure of attention 
that after staggering about with it for a few 
minutes they discreetly set it down and 
withdrew from observation. 

When in due time the Royal procession 
was formed and the Barons came along with 
their canopy, King George IV,, feeling that 
his life was too precious to the nation to he 
unnecessarily imperilled, insisted on walking 
in advance of them. If any accident 
happened it would be more easy to fill a 
vacancy in the Primacy, at the Home Office, 
or in the Office of the Lord High Chamber- 
lain. The Barons, who were getting along 
pretty well considering the heat of the day 
and their new clothes, showed themselves 


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Original from 




somewhat piqued at this lack of confidence, 
His Majesty noting this, and concluding that 
things were pretty safe, on the return from 
the service in the Abbey unflinchingly walked 
under the canopy. 

What in this century is alluded 

AN to as a regrettable incident 

intruder, occurred at the banquet The 

Barons found their promised 
table duly set in its consecrated position* 
Neither bit nor sup had passed their lips 
since five o'clock in the morning. Their 
struggles with the canopy had increased 
healthy appetite. Making a rush for their 
chairs they found one occupied by a stranger. 
They assured him there was a mistake some- 
where. The table was allotted to them, in 
proof of which they showed him on the 
back of each of the fifteen chairs the legend, 
41 Baron of the Cinque Ports/ 1 The stranger 
made light of a Baron of the Cinque Ports. 
For himself he was, he said, a Master in 
Chancery, was very hungry, and meant to 
stay where he was, The descendants and 
representatives of the founders of the Eng- 
lish Navy were not to he trifled with. **They 

were,' 1 the report remarks with 
creditable reticence, u compelled 
to exercise a considerable degree 
of firmness and decision before 
they could displace him. 1 ' 

Soothed with meat and drink, 
the Barons began to think of 
their canopy, with its precious 
equipment of silver bells, purple 
silk, and silver staves. Before 
tackling the Master in Chancery 
they had deposited their pre- 
cious burden in charge of atten- 
dants in the Hall. They were 
not a moment too soon in rush- 
ing to the rescue- The Philis- 
tines were upon the precious 
treasure, and were hacking off 
odd bits. The Barons, making 
a gallant rush, scattered them, 
and seizing what was left of the 
canopy carried it into sanctuary. 
2^a This was first sought in the 

*^ House of Commons, but t 

manoeuvre how they might, they 
could not get the thing through 
the doorway, It seemed as if 
they must sit up all night 
with the canopy, a prospect little attrac- 
tive in view of their early rising and 
arduous day's work. Happily the British 
Constitution affords a last appeal in the 
House of Lords. Thither the Barons bore 
their precious burden, and to their great 
delight found they could wriggle it in. 
There it was left For the night, the solicitors 
first removing the bells, which, as they write, 
(i being very portable, were too hazardous to 
be left," 

It was ten o'clock at night before the 
Barons wended their way homewards. They 
were up bright and early the next morning 
and, conveying the canopy to the Thatched 
House, divided the spoil. The rich purple 
silk, the gold cloth, and the framework of the 
canopy were divided into sixteen parts, one 
assigned to each of the fifteen Barons. They 
drew lots for the silver staves and the gilded 
bells. The remaining sixteenth part, which 
should have fallen to the lot of Mr. 
Brougham, was very properly allotted to the 
solicitors, whose services to the Cinque 
Ports and the State it would be impossible 
to overestimate. 

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Original from 

A Story of Hearts. 

By Winifred Graham. 

ATHURST HALL was full of 
visitors, for Mrs. Elphinstone's 
dances were the most popular 
in the county. She under- 
stood the art of entertaining in 
all its intricate details. Wealth 
and beauty had not spoilt her charm ; she 
was as simple, happy, and unaffected as her 
little daughter " Babs," a tiny, auburn-haired 
mite, with big, inquiring eyes. Under the 
mop of red-brown curls a very sensible and 
observant mind lay concealed. 

Babs watched her fellow-creatures with 
interest, and saw a very great deal for a 
person in socks. 

It was Babs who first remarked on Leonard 
Morgan's changed appearance when he 
arrived with a dozen other guests to partake 
in the festivities at Bathurst Hall. 

" Cousin Leonard can't keep his teeth still ; 
is he doing it for fun ? " she asked her mother, 

Mrs. Elphinstone went across to her 
nephew, a tall, bronzed young man. 

"You have an attack of fever again," she 
said, laying her hand on his shoulder. 

" I shall be all right presently," he replied, 
forcing a smile. " Ever since my return from 
India these tiresome malaria fits come and 
go. I was quite well when I left London, but 
began shivering in the train. It seems really 
so silly, I'm quite annoyed with myself. I 
daresay it will pass off— please don't bother 
about me." 

Mrs. Elphinstone sat down beside him 
and felt his pulse. He seemed to like the 
process, for an amused smile came involun- 
tarily to his lips, not forced this time, but 
spontaneous. ^ w " 

"Does it tick very loud?" asked Babs, 
leaning against his elbow. 

" I cfcn't know ; you must ask Aunt 
Helen," replied Leonard. 

Babs glanced inquiringly towards her 
mother, the childish eyes looking very wide 
and sympathetic at that moment 

" I'm sure you ought to go to bed and not 
dance to-night," said Helen Elphinstone, 
decidedly. " You don't look fit to dress and 
come down; you should keep quiet and 

Leonard shook his head, disdaining the 

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" Wild horses would not keep me upstairs," 
he declared. 

" Well, I know it would be rather hard 
thinking of a pretty fiancee below — obliged 
to spend her evening with other men," 
answered his young aunt, feelingly. " I saw 
Mabel yesterday, and she was rather hurt 
you had stayed so much in town. I assured 
her you had been very busy, but she scarcely 
seemed to believe me." 

" Oh, it will be all right to-night when I 
explain," he said, cheerfully. " I'm an 
abominable correspondent, you know. I 
could not tell her half I had to do in letters." 

" Talking of letters, there are some waiting 
for you in the hall. I don't think you saw 
them as you came in." 

Leonard did not like to own he had felt 
too ill and dizzy to notice anything. 

" I'll fetch them," said Babs, bounding 
away. To Babs the habit of walking was 
distasteful ; she always ran at top speed, and 
had won a reputation as a messenger. 

" Look," she said, returning breathlessly, 
" there's an envelope with an ' M ' on it — 
that must be from Lady Mabel." 

Leonard opened the initialled envelope 
first. The sight of the familiar handwriting 
sent his blood flowing faster through his 
veins. Though outwardly undemonstrative, 
he was desperately in love. 

Babs watched his face as he read. " I 
wonder he does not smile," she thought, " for 
it is from Lady Mabel, I know." 

He remained perfectly silent and still as 
a stone image ; he did not open the other 

Babs knelt against his knee. " Shall I get 
you some more cake ? " she asked. 

He made no reply. It was evident he had 
not heard the little piping voice. 

" Or some tea— or — or bread and butter ? " 
she continued. 

He rose hurriedly, nearly knocking her over. 

" I'm going up to my room," he told Mrs. 
Elphinstone. " I believe you are right, and 
I should be better in bed. You can tell 
Mabel I have a slight attack of fever — nothing 
serious, and say I'm sorry not to see her." 

" Good boy ! You are doing the right 
thing. We shall miss you horribly, but it 
can't be helped. It would be madness to 
dance, and you don't look fit to be up." 


J 76 


Babs crept unseen to the foot of the stairs 
to watch Cousin Leonard's ascent She 
thought he walked like old gentlemen 
who did not come for the dances, and 
her feeling little heart filled suddenly with 

11 1 wish he wasn't ill," she said. " We 
should have had 
such nice games 
alter tea. Poor 
Cousin Leonard!" 

The guests saw 
no more of Leon- 
ard Morgan ; but 
Babs hovered 
about in the pass- 
age and listened 
outside his door. 
She begged to be 
allowed to say 
" good-night," but 
nurse packed her 
off to bed before 
the carriages 
began to rumble 
up the avenue. 
Babs had no in- 
tention of going 
to sleep; her mind 
was full of the 
music and danc- 
ing below, tin- 
man y-coloured 
lights sparkling in 
the garden, the mirth, feasting, and gaiety 
of that festive scene. She also thought of 
Leonard, wondering if he, too, lay awake 
thinking of Lady Mabel and the pleasant 
evening he had missed. 

II It's worse for him having to go to bed," 
she told herself, " I'm only a very little girl; 
but, of course, he expects to sit up/' 

Anxiety on behalf of the sufferer, and a 
certain restlessness produced by the know- 
ledge of the merry crowd below, urged Babs 
to desert her cot and wander in the direction 
of Leonard's room, 

II I might just peep and see if he's 
awake," she snid softly to herself. "When 
I was ill people came in and out all night 

She crept to the door on tiptoe and put 
her ear to the keyhole. She fancied she 
heard him tossing about, and then a slight 
cough assured her he was not sleeping. The 
room was bright with moonlight, and the 
baby figure looked like a veritable moonbeam 
as it approached the sick man. 

I( Poor Cousin Leonard ! " said a small 

voice in his ear, and a cool hand was laid on 
his forehead. 

He had seen her come in, and rose on his 
elbow to stroke her curls, 

" Ah ! poor indeed ! n he replied. 

" Do you feel very had ?" she queried. 

He looked at her with haggard eyes ; his 

by Google 

lm YOU FEEL Ii'ILKV fcAD 1 bllfc yirEKIELP* 

face was deathly white and drawn ; his lips 

li Yes, you can't understand, Babs, but I'm 
regularly bowled over." 

"Oh ! but I can understand," she replied, 
proudly, " I had measles last year, I know 
just how it feels to be il! " 

11 1 don't mind about illness," he said, 

The words puzzled Babs. 

"Of course — I see," she murmured, after 
a pause, "you are disappointed because y>n 
mustn't dance. I missed two Christmas 
trees the winter I had measles. One does 
feel vexed about that sort of thing. I expect 
I^ady Mabel is sorry, too. Do you know, I 
believe I saw her in the garden ; the moon- 
light was on her hair ; she sat just under my 
window. All the people are sitting in the 
garden to-night. Mother says they like that 
much better than dancing, but it seems to 
me it must be rather dull- so far away from 
the fun and the music." 

"You— saw — Mabel !" The words came 
brokenly. Leonard was sitting up, with his 

Original from 



elbows oji his knees and his chin in his 
hands. His eyes appeared to be staring at 
something far off. 

" Yes, and I thought to myself— if I could 
talk to Lady Mabel she might give me a 
message for Cousin Leonard, but I was so 
far away up at the window it was no good 
calling out or waving. I peeped again, and 
saw her on the sofa, You know, there arc 
sofas in the garden this evening — it looks so 
funny. She sits on that same sofa after 
every dance, I do believe,* 5 

"Don't, Babs, don't tell me any more— I 
can't bear it ! You see, dear, I'm very fond 
of Mabel." 

tL I know. You're going to marry her, and 
Fm to be a bridesmaid and carry her train, 
I think I should like you to give me a little 
heart on a chain instead of a bracelet — you 
said I might choose anything 1 liked." 

" All right, you shall have the heart, Babs, 
but there won't be a wedding, because she 
docs not care for me now. You are the 
only person who knows yet, so don't talk 
about it to anyone." 

Babs put her little arms round his neck 
and kissed him. The sudden realization 
that she was face to face with sorrow brought 
hot tears to her eyes, tears that made e very- 

crying as if someone had dealt her a 

He lay down again with a deep sigh and 
apparently forgot her presence. 

She stole to the door without speaking; 
her heart was beating wildly, and a sudden 
look of determination, came in the little 
round, dimpled face which no one had ever 
seen there before, 

Instead of turning in the direction of the 
nursery she ran as fast as her legs could 
carry her to the back staircase. All the 
servants were busy in the front of the house 
— for t u n e fa vou red B a b s 's en t erpr i se. Swiftly 
she fled towards the garden ; the music of a 
stirring dance reached her from the ball- 
room. She darted past innumerable strange 
forms and vanished like a phantom in the 
night mists, 

" Where would you like to sit ? ? ' asked a 
tall, grey -haired man of an exceedingly pretty 
girl. She pointed to a sofa, placed out in 
the cool garden, 

"I like this seat best, "she replied. si It's close 
to a great bed of lilies, and 1 love the scent." 

fi You look tired," he said ; *' I don't believe 
you are enjoying yourself/' 

"One needs good spirits for a ball/' 
answered the girL 

vol: look TijiEn, 1 he said ; * i don't believe vou arb enjoyivg vouhself. 

thing look foggy, and which had to be 
brushed hastily away with the corner of the 
pillow-case. She wanted to tell him how 
sorry she was, but the words stuck in her 
throat and she just stood trembling and 

Vol. **iii.-23. 

mze6 by Google 

" And,' 5 continued the grey-haired mail, 
"it's awfully slow having to dance with an old 
uncle, eh, Mabel ? " 

The girl put out her hand quickly and laid 
it on his arm. 

Original from 

1 7 8 


"Oh ! please don't say that," she pleaded. 
"It hurts me. You don't know how miser- 
able I am to-night, and it has been torture 
dancing with other men, I J m happier with 
you ; I can talk to you and trust you." 

II Yes, dear little woman. What's the 
trouble ? JJ 

* k I've 1 Token oft" liiV engagement with 
Leonard. I began to think he did not care 
for me, and at last the thought became a 
sure conviction — I could no longer bear the 
strain. So I wrote and released him, I said 
I wished to be set free. I was too proud to let 
him guess how deeply I suffered. I sent the 
letter here, hoping to-night he might show 
some signs of feeling — which would enable 
me to call him back. Instead, he has not 
even bothered to come down, but made 
some excuse about not feeling well, and 
remained in his room. Now I know that I 
was right —he is only too glad I have given 
him this easy way of escape/' 

She leant back and put her hand over her 
eyes. She was conscious that the man 
beside her spoke words of sympathy, but 
they fell upon stony ground, Nothing could 
cure that frozen, numb sensation which 
seemed to congeal her very life-blood ; no 
presence but Leonard's could bring relief to 
the unceasing ache of heart and head* 

As the music recalled them she rose 

II I suppose I must go back," she said. 
u I don't want anyone to think I mind. It 
has helped me a little, just speaking about 
it to you. I feel 
st rengthened 
from having 
dropped my 
mask for a 
moment* One 
does grow so 
tired of smiling." 

As Lady Mabel 
moved away a 
curly head 
appeared for an 
instant from 
under the soU, 
and a pair of 
glistening eyes 
followed her re- 

Then the re* 
maining couples 
were once more 
astonished by 
the vision of a 
white sprite, 

which passed and vanished like a will-o'-the- 
wisp before they had time to perceive its 

Running even faster than before, inspirited 
by the good news she had to tell, Babs, with 
glowing cheeks, regained the invalid's room. 

M I wonder why grown-up people say what 
they don't mean?' 5 she thought, her head 
still full of Lady Mabel and the conversation 
she had overheard. 

Leonard was not asleep, but pretended to 
be from disinclination to talk. He ht-ard 
his door open, this time with no effort at 
concealment, but by somebody who bounded 
in and turned on the electric light, filling the 
room with radiance. Bubs seemed to bring 
with her a great flood of joy as she sprang 
upon the bed and sat learning down at the 
worried face on the pillow. 

" Everything is coming right," she cried. 
M Fve been as far as the garden, and it was 
awfully terrifying. I thought I should be 
caught, and —and lots of the party-people saw 
me. They said, * What's that ? ' and * Who's 
there?' Oh, and heaps of other things, but 
I had not time to stay and explain. It was 
like playing hide and-seek, for I got under 
the sofa and kept quite still. I tried not to 
breathe even, but of course I had to some- 
times Lady Mabel came and sat on the 
sofa with her uncle. She told him she was 
miserable because you did not aire for her, 
so, just out of kindness, she wrote the letter 
whii± camt this afternoon. She thought, 
perfaps, to-night, you would — let me see, 





Original from 



this, Babs? Is it 
You're — you're not 


what did she say?— e Show some signs of 
feeling,' Yes, those were her very words, and 
she thinks it's just an excuse about your 
being ill." 

Leonard put out his hands and seized hold 
of Babs. The sudden grip startled her, for 
his fingers trembled and their grasp positively 

"Do you really mean 
all true ? Every word ? 
playing a trick on me ? " 

She shook her curls emphatically, 
shouldn't go to Heaven ever if I told stories* 
Lady Mabel told a story. But perhaps it 
does not matter for grown-up people ; they 
are different.*' 

"Yes, yes; of course/* he stammered. 
" And now, Babs^ do you know, I'm going to 
get up straight away and go down to the 
dance. I've something important to say to 
Mabel, and the fever 
must take care of 

Babs smiled approval. 

her, and though he spoke cheerily his voice 
sounded weak froni illness. 

Babs toddled back to the night nursery, 
her eyes suddenly heavy, and ready for 

" It was rather cold in the garden," she 
said, as she snuggled down under the clothes. 
" Fni more comfortable here. I'm glad I 
don't play hide -and seek every night, the 
grass gets wet, and after all it was only hide, 
and no seek." 

A delicious sense of drowsiness brought 
peace to the excited soul of the little child 
who had made sore hearts happy. 

Under her window stood two figures look- 
ing up with grateful eyes. 

" What can we do for Babs?" said Lady 

Leonard touched a little gold heart dang! 
ing from one of her bracelets, 

"Shall we creep upstairs 
and tie that on Babs's wrist 
while she is asleep ? " he 

Mabel smiled. 

u Yes + " 

Together they stole to the 


"Oh," she said, "I'm so glad. Now I 
shall be able to go to sleep. It wasn't really 
the music kept me awake, I thought lots 
about you being alone and ill," 

He kissed her as she sprang off the bed. 
Her poor little feet were cut by stones, but 
she was too excited to notice the injury. 

''flood-night, Cousin Leonard," she cried, 
as she slipped away, triumphant at the 
success of her expedition, 

"Good-night, little brick," he called after 

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nursery, and with a tiny piece of ribbon cut 
from Mabel's dress fastened the trinket to 
the baby arm. 

"Little darling/ 1 whispered Mabel, bending 
over the brown curls. "You don't know 
what you have done to-night ! It may not 
have seemed much to you ; it meant all the 
world to us ! t? 

Original from 

A Dime Museum. 

By Harry Furniss. 

Frvm a Drawing by] 


[Many Fw*i*t- 

MUST make an Irish bull to 
explain to my English readers 
whai an American dime 
museum really is. It is a 
five penny penny show. The 
dime is fivepeiu v, and you get 
fifty times more value in the dime museum 
of America than you do in the penny show 
of England. 

Dime museums, Sunday papers, and 
colonelships are the only really cheap things 
in the States. 

11 Museums for the Morbid" would be u 
better title, for although some of them may 
represent the grimy chrysalis that may some 
day develop into a Karn urn's Show, those I 
have seen were old clothes shops of show 
business ; worn -out wonders, mawkish mon- 
strosities, old family "fakes"; they are, 
indeed, " vulga in extreaitt." 

Attracted, like a moth, by the glare of 
many lamps, I was drawn into one of these 
museums when in New York, Covering the 
building outside were huge paintings portray- 

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iiig some of the wonders on view within, 
and in the centre a vilely painted picture of 
six ladies on bicycles, accompanied by an 
announcement setting furth that there was a 
competition going on between these rival 
representatives of different nations. England 
was leading by a mile or two, followed by 
France, with Germany, Italy, and Spain close 
up, the lady who pedalled to uphold the 
honour of the United States lieing absolutely 
last. This was on Thursday evening, I 
believe it invariably happens that the fair 
America! ne and the hope of England reverse 
their positions by Saturday evening. 

When I went through I found myself in 
the centra) hall On a large platform were 
six rather worn-out-looking ladies of various 
sizes and ages (I question whether they were 
of different nationality) in tights seated in a 
row with their wraps and jackets on, She 
who did battle for Italy was deeply engrossed 
in reading an evening paper, which, by the 
way, was an American one; one sluml>ered, 
others chatted, and the sixth yawned Behind 
Original from 




From ff Prmrint i* Harry f W»* 

the studio of the dime museum's property - 

The head of a John Dory growing out of 
an old sailor's boot ; a petrified cat with nine 
tails : the skull of a soldier who had lived for 
fifty-ihree years with nineteen bullets in his 
brain ; a baby bear with eagle's wings and a 
donkey's tail ; a prairie oyster with a sponge 
growing out of it ; and finally, in an asbestos 
case, the tail of a comet. 

Cases line the walls all the; way up the 
stairs, filled with these freaks of Nature, and 
wax models of assassins and Ambassadors, 
perjurers and princes, side by side. 

"'Tis the voice of the Professor, I hear 
hfm explain " to a wondering crowd the chief 
living attractions of his great museum, A 
white eyed girl in a short dress, who is 
twiddling her thumbs while seated on a chair 
on a raised dais, and is adornud with a 
palpable wig of almost white, towy hair, is 
the first subject in the Professor's discourse, 

"A remarkable and ^jftra-ordinary Cir- 
cassian beauty, a genuine human prize. 
Natur J usually supplies the colouring matter 
for the hair, but she's forgot it in this 
instance, Indies and gentlemen, it is one of 
them freaks of Natur 1 that might happen in 
any family I " 

them were their stationary cycles, riveted to 
the floor, and the dial on the wall recorded 
the distances covered* 

On the same platform was a horse exhibited 
for its extreme length of tail and mane, and 
I have an idea that it also talked, laughed, 
and sang — the latter, of course, rather 
*' hoarsely/* 

On another platform sat a "strong man," 
waiting for his turn, and gazing with a look 
of utter contempt upon two youths who were 
going through their performance on the flying 
rings ; while a diminutive policeman, about 
3^fL high, strutted about, greatly impressed 
by his brief authority. 

Around were common objects of the show- 
man's stock displayed in cases. The boots 
worn by Stabbenheimer, the well- kit own 
murderer^ when he was arrested ; the scalp 
of Bloodskin, the Indian assassin ; the glass 
eye of Bridget Mulligan, the Bowery Beauty ; 
the button found in the sausage that led to 
the discovery of the murder of (ioldbug, the 
millionaire^ by the sausage -maker, Pigstiggins, 
and many other interesting relics of this kind, 
all duly labelled and described. Then, 
hanging from the ceiling, were other curi- 
osities from the sea, the *lunis, the battlefield 
the mountain, the prairies, the skies, and- 

by Google 

irom a Itrturmy fry Httrrjf fiurnin. 




As I was drifted along by the crowd to hear 
the Professor describe the next attraction, 
with an awe that all must feel for a Professor, 
I tried to realize what he had just said, 
and I pictured to myself the surprise of Mr, 
Gillespie Quiverfull, of Somerset House, on 
finding, when he returned to his little 
suburban villa at Peck ham Rye, that his dear 
wife had presented him with a splendid 
specimen of an infantile Circassian beauty ! 

A negro was next introduced to us, dressed 
in black tights ornamented with gold lace. 
The Professor then proceeded : — 

"This gentleman in early youth lived on 
the peaceful banks of the silvery Kumkatch- 
emalivo River, and had to trip daily over the 
sharp spikes of the prickly cactus that 
flourishes in them unexplored regions. This 

There was another little raised table on 
the same platform, under which gas-jets 
were alight, and behind which was seated 
coloured gentleman number two. He was 
dressed in a bathing suit, a leopard ski n T and 
a grin of self-satisfaction and conscious 

In my juvenile days 1 used to be very 
much amazed that showmen had the nerve 
to describe the various members of their 
company in the most offensive and abusive 
terms, but I invariably consoled myself with 
the belief that, as these notorieties always hail 
from the most remote districts of far-distant 
climes, they would not, of course, be able to 
understand a word the showman was saying, 
and their feelings would be saved thereby. 

Now the Professor described this coloured 

Fvam a Dwvinp M 


] ft, try,/ f'tiT-nitt. 

early training has so far benefited him as to 
give him the power of strolling about on the 
edges of razors with th<j greatest facility." 

But why this gentleman selected walking 
on razors as his favourite amusement was not 
explained to us by the Professor, Now, if he 
had walked on the boulders and jagged rocks 
that are possibly strewn about the shores of 
the beautiful Kumkatchemalivo, I could have 
understood that he was practising to become 
a pedestrian in the streets of civilized New 
York. Rut, after all, these so-called razors 
may only have been New York restaurant 
knives, which anyone could jump on with 
impunity. As the coloured gentleman pro- 
ceeded to take a constitutional on these 
razors he was accompanied on the piano by a 
lady, and his feet were about as much affected 
by the edges of the razors as were her lingers 
by the keys of the piano. 

by Google 

gentleman as having been :i most atrocious 
scoundrel in his earlier days but I know by 
this time that professors of mesmerism can 
get creatures on to the platform to be made 
pincushions of, to swallow miscellaneous dis- 
tasteful articles, to be abused and ridiculed 
for so many dollars a week, and in the same 
way these princes and chiefs will walk on 
razors, dance on hot plates, and be daily 
described as bloodthirsty assassins for their 
bread and butter. 

"This unmitigated scoundrel now before 
you is the eldest son of Chief Khillem* 
aneetem, and has committed more acts of 
barbarous atrocity than any other cannibal 
that ever lived. He was captured by another 
tribe and sentenced to be roasted alive 
straight away, and I guess he'd have been 
pretty wtrll roasted on both sides, but making 
a ftcmenjious effort he managed to escape 
Original from 


l8 3 

with his life, and now dances upon the very 
identical plates, heated white hot, that he 
was to have been served up on ! ** 

Fried soles were not appetizing to me just 
then, so I followed the Professor to the 
subject of his next lecture. 

As I passed, 
the cactus gen- 
tleman from the 
ativo had fin- 
ished his pet 
amusement cf 
walking on 
razors, and as 
he was sitting 
down, forgetting 
the presence of 
the lady pianist, 
he looked scorn- 
fully at the 
dusky potentate 
who was danc- 
i n g on the 
heated crockery 
and said : — 

"Guess, Bill, 
I'm gi t ti n ' 
darned tired of 
your tarnation 

*h W ! " Fro u l a DrwbtQ fcpl 

His remarks were evidently as 
blunt as his razors. 

The next object of interest was 
a Zulu chief with feathers, asse- 
gais, and warriors shield com- 
plete. He was described as even 
a blacker villain than the plate- 
dancing Hottentot. The Pro- 
feasor waxed quite eloquent in 
describing the baseness of this 
member of his troupe, and wound 
up by jnthetirally remarking : — 

11 He has lured many and many 
a maiden clothed simply in the 
atmosphere from the peaceful 
security of her domestic hearth. 
He will now proceed to lure ! " 

The luring process consisted 
of the chiefs capacious mouth 
opening to its fullest extent and 
emitting blood - curdling yells. 
The effect thereby produced may 
have enchanted the sable beau- 
lies of Africa, but his luring had 
a distinctly opposite effect upon 
the fair maidens of America, for 
they not only declined to be 
"lured," tut betook themselves 
away from the vicinity of the museum, as we 
all did. 

My artistic nature was touched by observ- 
ing a brother brush seated before an easel 
bearing a large notice with this announcement 
upon it : u Your Portrait While You Wait 

by Google 


Original from 

[HuTTy t-ui-htn. 

1 34 


25 cents," and somehow or other I found 
myself unconsciously lapsing into an empty 
chair at right angles to the easeL The artist 
immediately smoothed out the paper in front 
of him, measured me in the approved style 
with his crayon, which he held out at arm's 
length as if it were a revolver with which he 
was going to shoot me, and began my portrait, 
This was evidently a novelty, and as the 
crowd collected round me with quite as much 

I was so delighted by the artist's having 
given me some hair on the top of my head 
that I paid him double fee, especially as he 
had thrown in a beautiful, rouge -like com- 

I could hardly keep my countenance 
during the whole of this operation, as all 
the time I was in position I had 10 gaze 
upon a group of waxwork figures in the 
corner representing Stanley discovering 

/Vt*n a Ih-avi u a hi/} 


\ Harry FHTjiim. 

interest as they had crowded round the Cir- 
cassian beauty, the Kumkatchemalivo razor- 
walker, or the fire- proof plate-dancer, I felt 
that I must go through the terrible ordeal, as 
judging from the notice taken of my action 
the poor fellow couldn't have many sitters, 
so I stuck to my guns, and here is the result ! 
If you can imagine all the features the very 
reverse, you might possibly conjure up a 
portrait something like me. 

Emin Pasha. Einin was smoking a hookah 
with a most perfect waxwork air of un- 
concern upon his otherwise inexpressive 
features, quite regardless of some snakes 
which were uncoiling and investing his 
fez. In a cavern some pigmies were sup- 
posed to be eating human beings. All 
this was most realistic and awe-inspiring, 
and fully typical of the Dime Museum of 

by Google 

Original from 

The House Under the Sea. 

By Max Pemberton. 



HE wind blew a hurricane all 
that night, and was still a full 
gale when dawn broke. To 
say that no man among us 
slept is to put down a very 
obvious thing. The roaring 
of the breakers on the reefs below us, the 
showers of stones which the heights rained 
down, the dreadful noises like wild human 
voices in the hills, drove sleep far from any 
man's eyes. And more than that, there was 
the ship to think of. What had become of 
the ship? Where did she lie? When 
should we see her again ? Aye, how often 
we asked each other that question when the 
blast thundered and the lightning seemed 
to open the very heavens, and the spindrift 
was blown clean over the heights to fall like 
a salt spray upon our faces. Was it well 
with the ship or ill ? Mister Jacob we knew 
to be a good seaman, none better. With 
him the decision lay to run for the open 
water or to risk everything for our sakes. 
If he made up his mind that the safety of 
the Southern Cross demanded sea-room he 
would take it, and let to-morrow look after 
itself. But I was anxious, none the less ; 
for, if the ship were gone, " God help us on 
Ken's Island," I said. 

Now, the old Frenchman was the first to 
be moving when the day came, and no 
sooner did all the higher peaks show us a 
glimmer of the dawn-light — very beautiful 
and awesome to look upon — than he set up 
the ladder and began to show us the way to 
the mountain-top. 

" You make signal ; you fetch ship. Sailor- 
men go down where landman afraid. Little 
boat come in ; shipmate go out. Old Clair- 
de-Lune he know. Ah, messieurs, the wind 
is very dreadful to-day — what you call 
harriken. Other day, all quite easy plan — 
but this day not so, great water, all white — 
no go, no man." 

It was queer talk, and we might have 
laughed at him if we'd have forgotten that he 
saved our lives last night and was wait- 
ing to save them again this morning. But 
you don't laugh at a friend, talk as he may, 
and for that matter we were all too excited to 
think of any such thing, and we made haste 
to scramble up out of the pit and to follow him 
to the heights where the truth should be 
known— the best of it or the worst, For the 

Vol. wii,-24, 

path or its dangerous places we cared nothing 
now. The rocks, upstanding all about us, 
shut in the view as some great basin cut in 
the mountain's heart. You could see the 
black sky above and the bottomless chasms 
below — but of the water nothing. Imagine, 
then, how we raced for the summit : now 
up on our feet, now on all-fours like dogs ; 
now calling, man to man, to hasten ; now 
saying that haste wouldn't help us. And no 
wonder — no wonder our hearts beat high 
and our hands were unsteady, for beyond the 
basin we should find the sea, and the view 
might show us life or death. 

Old Clair-de-Lune was the first to be up, 
but I was close upon his heels, and Dolly 
Venn not far behind me. Who spoke the 
first word I don't rightly recollect ; but I 
hadn't been on the heights more than ten 
seconds when I knew why it was spoken, 
and what the true meaning of it might be. 

The ship was gone ! 

All the eyes in the wide world could not 
have found her on that angry sea below us, 
or anywhere on the black and looming 
horizon beyond. The night had taken her. 
The ship was gone. Hope as we might, 
speak up as we might, tell each other this 
story or tell each other that — the one sure 
fact remained that the Southern Cross had 
steamed away from Ken's Island and left us 
to our fates. 

" He'll be running for sea-room, and come 
in when the gale falls," said Peter Bligh, 
when we had stood all together a little while, 
as crestfallen a lot as the Pacific Ocean could 
show that day ; " trust Mister Jacob to be 
cautious — he's a Scotchman, and would think 
first of the ship. A precious lot of good his 
wages would do him if the ship were down 
in sixty fathoms and he inside her ! " 

" That's true," cried Dolly Venn, " though 
your poor old father didn't say it, Mister 
Bligh. The ship's gone, but she'll come back 
again." And then to me he said, very 
earnestly, "Oh, she must come back, 

"Aye, lad," said I, "let her ride out the 
gale, and she'll put back right enough. 
Mister Jacob isn't the one to desert friends. 
He'll have learned from Harry Doe how it 
stands with us, and he'll just say, c 'Bout ship ' ; 
that's what Mr. Jacob will say. I've no fear 
of it at all. I'm only wondering what sort of 
shore-play is to keep us amused until we 
sight the ship afja;n^| froni 


1 86 


Well, they looked doleful enough ; but 
not a man among them complained- Tis 
that way with seamen all the world over. 
Put them face to face with death and some 
will laugh, and some will curse, and some 
talk nonsense; 
but never a 
man wears his 
heart upon his 
sleeve or tells 
you that he's 
afraid. And so 
it was that 
morning. They 
understood, I 
do believe* as 
well as I did, 
what the con- 
sequences of 
the gale might 
be. They were 
no fools, to 
imagine that a 
man could get 
from Ken's 
Island to San 
Francisco in 
any cockle- 
shell the beach 
might show 
him, .But none 
of them talked 
none charged me with it; 
they just put their hands 
in their pockets like brave 
fellows who had made up their 
minds already to a very bad job ; 
and be sure I was not the one to 
give a different turn to it, The 
ship had gone ; the Lord only 
knew when she would come back 
again. It was not for me to be 
crying like a child for that which neither I 
nor any man could make good. 

" Well/* said I T " the ship's gone, sure 
enough, and hard words won't bring her 
back again. What Mister Jacob can do for 
his friends, that, I know, will be done. We 
must leave it to him and look after ourselves 
so far as this place is concerned. You won J t 
forget that the crew downstairs will be 
ready enough to ask after our health and 
spirits if we give them a look in, and my 
word is for lying-to here until night comes or 
the ship is sighted. It must be a matter of 
hours, anyway. The gale's abating ; a lands- 
man would know as much as that/* 

They said, "Aye, aye/' to it, and Peter 
Bligh put in a word of his humour* 

Digitized by tjOOQ I C 

''The ship's gone, sure enough/' said he; 
"but that's more than you can say for my 
appetite! Hear or dug, I'm not particular, 
captain ; but a good steak of something 
would come handy, and the sooner the better. 

Twere enough 
to bring tears 
to a man's eyes 
to think of all 
the good grub 
that's gone 
aboard with 
Harry Doe, 
Aye, 'tis a won- 
derful thing is 
hunger, and the 
gift of the Lord 
along with 
good roast beef 
and pork sau- 
sages. Maybe 
you find your- 
self a bit peck- 
ish, captain ? * 
I answered 
" Yes/' though 
that was far 
from the 
truth, for what 
with watching 
through the 
night and 
thinking about 
the ship and 
little Ruth Bel- 
lenden's loneli- 
ness in this 
place of mys- 
ter}% and far 
worse than 
mystery, I'd 
forgotten all 
about meal times, and never once had asked 
myself where breakfast was to come from. 
But now the long faces of my shipmates 
brought me to a remembrance of it, and 
when little Dolly Venn cried, "Oh, 
captain, I am so hungry!" I began to 
realize what a parlous plight we were in and 
what a roundabout road we must tread to 
get out of it Luckily for us, the old French- 
man, who had stood all this time like a statue 
gazing out over the desolate sea, now bobbed 
up again, good Samaritan that he was, and 
catching Master Dolly's complaint, he spoke 
of breakfast on his own account. 

" Ah ! you hungry, you thirst, messieurs ; 
sailor-man always like that. Your ship gone ? 
Never tnind t he shrdl cqme back again, ft> 





day, tomorrow, one, two, three day — pray 
God it be not longer, shipmate, pray God ! " 

I thought him a fine, picturesque old figure, 
standing there on the headland with his long 
hair streaming in the wind like a woman's, 
and his brawny arms outstretched as though 
he would call the ship back to us from 
the lonely ocean. Truth to tell, the place 
was one to fill any man with awe. Far 
as the eye could see the great waste 
was white with the foam of its breaking 
seas; the headland itself stood up a thousand 
feet like some mighty fortress commanding 
all the deep. Far below us were the green 
valleys of the island, the woods we had raced 
through last night ; pastures with little white 
houses dotted about on them ; the bungalow 
itself wherein Ruth Bellenden lived. No 
picture from the gallery of a high tower could 
have been more beautiful than that strange 
land with the wild reefs lying about it and 
the rollers cascading over them, and the 
black glens above which we stood, and the 
great circle of the water like some measure- 
less basin which the whole earth bounded. 
I did not wonder that old Clair-de-Lune was 
silent when he looked down upon a scene so 
grand. It seemed a crime to speak of food 
and drink in such a place ; and yet it was of 
these that Peter Bligh must go on talking. 

" We'll do the prayin', shipmate, if you'll 
do the cookin'," cried he, hopefully ; " as for 
that — you speak like a wise man. 'Tis 
wonderful easy to pray on a full stomach ! 
There isn't a hunger or a thirst this side of 
'Frisco which I would not pray out of this 
same island if you'll be pleased to bring 'em 
along. Weigh anchor, my man," says he, 
"and we'll pipe down to dinner." 

Well, the old man laughed at his manner 
of putting it, and, without further ado, we all 
went down to the bird's nest in the hollow, 
and there we lighted a fire in the shelter of 
the pit, and old Clair-de-Lune going away in 
search of rations, he returned presently with 
victuals enough to feed a missionary, and, 
more than that, as pretty a trio to serve them 
as any seaman could hope for. For what 
should happen but that the three young 
girls we'd seen yesterday in the woods came 
romping up the hill together; and one 
bringing a great can for the coffee, and 
another a basket of luscious fruit, and a third 
some new-made bread and biscuit, they 
ran down the ladder to us and began to talk 
in their pretty language, and now and then 
in English which did not need much under- 

"J am RQsamunda," says ewe, 

And the second, she says : — 

" I am Sylvia — Sylvia — Sylvia." 

And the third, she chimes in with :— 

" I am Celestine, and I have brought you 

And they all stood together, shy and 
natural, looking now at one, now at another 
of us ; but most often, I thought, at little 
Dolly Venn, who had a way of making them 
understand which an older man might have 

" And wonderful pretty names, too, young 
ladies, though a seaman doesn't often hear 
the likes of 'em," cries Peter Bligh, gallant 
enough, as all Irishmen are. "They're all 
Pollies in our parts, and it do come easier 
to the tongue and more convenient if you 
know many of 'em. Whereby did you 
hitch up names like those ? " asks he ; 
" which, askin' your pardon, seem to me to 
be took out of a picture-book." 

They giggled at this ; but old Clair-de- 
Lune, who was mighty proud of them, and 
justly, answered Peter Bligh as though the 
question were serious. 

"Monsieur, in my own country I am 
artiste; I play the drama, the comedy, the 
tragedy. Clair-de-Lune they call me at the 
theatre. To the daughters of my master I 
give the artiste's name — why not ? Better 
the good name than the bad name ! It 
was long year ago, shipmate ; the Belle lie 
was wrecked on these reef; the maitre is 
drowned, but I and the young ladies are 
save. We come, we go, none interfere. The 
Governor is angry, we hide in the hill ; the 
Governor laugh, we go down to the valley. 
When the sleep-time comes we go to the 
house under the sea : you shall find him a 
dangerous time, but we hide far down. 
None frighten Claire-de-Lune ; they frighten 
of him. He become the father according to 
his best." 

It was touching, I must sky, to hear this 
old man's broken story ; and prettier still to 
see the affectionate eyes with which these 
little girls watched every movement of one to 
whom, I am sure, they were beholden for all 
that they got out of Ken's Island. For the 
rest, the tale was plain enough. The father 
had been wrecked and drowned on the 
sword-fish reef; the servant had saved the 
children and himself from the ship, and his 
own natural cleverness had done the rest. 
No one interfered with him, he said; and 
this was true. I verily believe that the 
demons in the valley below believed that he 
and the children with him were nothing more 
qv less than spirits, 




I say his story was plain, and yet there was 
something in it which was Greek to me* He 
had named a house under the sea> and what 
that meant, or how any man could build such 
a house, lay beyond my understanding, I 
should have asked a question about it there 
and then, and have sought light on the 
matter iT it hadn't have been that the food 
was already cooked, and^ the others being 
mighty anxious, we sat down to steaming 
coffee and broiled kid's flesh and good 
bread and sweet fruit, and I was very willing 
to keep my curiosity. Once, it k true, the 
young girl who called herself " Rosamunda " 
came and sat by my side and wished to talk 
to me ; but, prettily as she spoke our tongue, 
her measure of it was limited, and we did 
not get very far, in spite of good intentions, 

" Do you like the island, do you like living 
here ? " I asked her. 

She answered me with a doubting shake of 
her pretty head, 

li In the sun-months, yes, I like it ; but 
not in the sleep-time, You will go away 
before the sleep-time, monsieur ? " 

Digitized by Google 

" Really, young lady," 
said I, "it seems to me 
that it depends upon Mister 
Jacob and the ship. But, 
supposing I cannot go away 
—what then ? How does 
the sleep-time concern nie?" 
" You must not stay," she 
said, quickly ; '* for us it is 
different; we— we live in 
the house under the sea, 
but no stranger may live 
there—the Governor would 
not permit it. On the island 
all things sleep. If you do 
not go to the house under 
the sea— ah, monsieur^ but 
you will sail away, you will 
sail in your ship." 

She put it very childishly, 
the same cock-and-bull story 
thattheold Frenchman had 
been at last night. What to 
make of it I knew no more 
than the dead Here we 
seemed to be on as fair an 
island as the whole Pacific 
might show you ; and yet 
these odd folk could talk of 
sun-mouths and sleep-time* 
and other stuff which might 
have been written in a fairy- 
book. Do you wonder that 
I laughed at them and 
treated ft as any sane man, 
not given to fables, would have done ? 

" Sleep-time or sun-time> I'll be away before 
then, please God, mademoiselle," said I; 
"do not fear for Jasper Begg, who was 
always fond of his bed and won't grumble 
overmuch, be it sleep or waking. For the 
rest, we'll take our chance, as others must do 
here, I fancy. Madame Czerny, for instance 
—do you know Madame Czerny, young 

She nodded her head and said that she 

11 Yes, yes> we know Madame Czerny ; she 
is the Governor's wife. I think she is un- 
happy, Monsieur Captain. In the sun- 
months I see her, but in the sleep-time she 
lives in the house under the feea T and no one 
knows. You are her friend, perhaps] you 
would know that she is unhappy ? M 

I knew it well enough ; but I wished to 
lead this little talker on, and so I said I did 

'* Unhappv, young lady ! Why should she 
be unhappy ?; qjna|from 




I asked it naturally, as though I was very 
surprised ; but you could not deceive Mile. 
Rosamunda. A more artful little witch 
never played at fairies in a wood. 

"If she is not unhappy, why have you 
come here, Monsieur Captain ? You come 
to help her — oh, I know ! And you say that 
you do not." 

" Perhaps so, young lady ; perhaps I do — 
that I will tell you by-and-by. But I am 
curious about the Governor. What sort of a 
man is he, and where does he happen to be 
at this particular moment ? I'm sure you could 
say something nice about him if you tried." 

She looked at me with her big, questioning 
eyes, as though the question were but half 
understood. Presently she said : — 

" You laugh at me. Monsieur Czerny has 
gone away to the world. Of course he would 
go. He has gone in the ship. What shall I 
tell you about him ? That he is kind, cruel ; 
that we love him, hate him ? Everyone 
knows that ; everyone has told you. He is 
the Governor, and we are his people who 
must obey. When he comes back he will 
ask you to obey him too, and you must say 
' yes/ That will be at the sleep-time : eight, 
nine, ten days. But why do you ask, Monsieur 
Captain? Has not Madame Czerny said it 
because you are her friend ? I know that you 
teaze me. Sailors love to teaze little girls, 
and you are no better than the other ones." 

She cast down her eyes at this, and looked 
for all the world the taking little coquette 
that she was. Her odd speech told me 
something, enough at least to put a hundred 
questions into my head and as many useless 
answers. The Governor was away. The 
island alternately hated and feared him. 
The sleep-time, whatever it was, might be 
looked for in ten days' time. We must be 
away and on board the ship by then or 
something dreadful would happen to us. 
Ruth Bellenden's unhappiness was known 
even to these little girls, and they surmised, 
as the others had surmised, that we were on 
shore to help her. For the rest, the men on 
Ken's Island, I imagined, would hunt us 
night and day until we were taken. Nor 
was I mistaken in that. We'd scarcely 
finished our meal when there was the sound 
of a gun-shot far down in the valley, and, old 
Clair-de-Lune jumping up at the report, we 
were all on our feet in an instant to speak of 
the danger. 

" Halloa, pop-guns," cries Peter Bligh, in 
his Irish way ; " what for now would any 
man be firing pop-guns at this time of the 
morning ?" 

Digitized by C-OOgle 

" It's to ask after your health, Peter," said 
I, when we'd listened awhile ; " what else 
should a man be firing after, unless he takes 
you for a rabbit ? Will you run down and 
thank him kindly?" 

He hitched up his breeches and pulled 
out his briar-pipe. 

."If this is track-running, take down my 
number. I'm through with it, gentlemen, 
being not so young as I was." 

A gun-shot, fired out at sea, cut short his 
talk. Old Clair-de-Lune, nipping up the 
ladder, bade us follow him, while to the girls 
he cried, " AUtz-vous en/" All our quiet 
talk and content were gone in an instant. I 
never answered little Dolly Venn when he 
asked me, " Do you think there's danger, 
sir?" but, running up the hill after the 
Frenchman, I helped him to carry the ladder 
we'd dragged out of the pit, for I knew he'd 
need of it. 

"What is it, Clair-de-Lune? Why are 
they firing ? " I asked him, as he ran. 

" Governor home," was his answer — 
" Governor home. Great danger, capitaine" 



We ran up the hill, I say, as men who raced 
for their lives. The little girls, snatching up 
their bags and baskets, exchanged a quick 
word with Clair-de-Lune and then hurried 
off towards the bungalow. Our own path 
lay over difficult rocks and steep slopes and 
chasms fearful to see. Of these our leader 
made nothing, and we went on, up and up, 
until at last the road carried us right round 
the highest peak, on whose very walls we 
walked like chamois on a mountain crag. 
It was here, on a narrow ledge high above 
the sea, that the Frenchman stopped for the 
first time. 

"Shipmates," said he, when he had got 
his breath, "journey done, all finish, you 
safe here, you rest. I go down to see 
Governor ; but come back again, come back 
again, messieurs, with bread and meat." 

Well, I don't think one of us had the voice 
to answer him. The place itself — the ledge 
above the sea and the little low, cramped 
cave behind it — occupied all our thoughts. 
Here, in truth, a man might lie safely enough 
— yet in what a situation. The very door of 
the house opened upon an abyss a thousand 
feet above the rocks below. We had the sea 
before our eyes, the sea beneath us, the sea 
for our distant horizon. Day and night the 
breakers thundered on the sword-fish reef; 
the wind moaned a iifu i .- I tbe mighty eaves of 





those tremendous crags. We were like men 
placed suddenly on a steeple's side arid left 
there to live or fall, as fortune went. 

I tell you this, plain and straightforwardly* 
because five days passed on that awful ledge, 
and, except for one day, there is nothing but 
a seaman's talk of question and answer and 
idle hope to set down on these pages. If 
every hour of the day found one of us with 
eyes which yearned for our lost ship, with 
hearts grown heavy in waiting and disappoint- 
ment — that was his affair, and of no concern 
to others. Be sure we didn't confess, one to 
the other, the thought in our heads or the 
future we must live through. We had come 
to Ken's Island to help little Ruth Bellen- 
den, and this fearful plight was the result 
of it — ship gone, the island full of demons that 
would have cut our throats for nothing and 

Digitized by GoOglc 

thought themselves 
well paid — no 
knowledge, not the 
smallest, of any way 
of escape — food 
short and likely to 
be shorter. Friends 
we had, true friends. 
Night and morning 
ClairdeLune and 
the Htde girls found 
their way up to us 
with bread and meat 
and the news that 
was passing. It was 
on the fifth day that 
they came no more, 
and I, at least* knew 
that they would 
never come again 

"I,ads," I said, 
;t one of two things 
has happened, 
Hither they've been 
watched and fol- 
lowed, or the time 
of which they made 
mention has come. 
1 trust the old 
Frenchman as I 
would trust my own 
brother, He knows 
how it will fare with 
four men left on a 
lonely rock without 
food or drink. If 
he doesn't come 
up here to-day, it's 
because he daren't 
come or because 
he's ordered elsewhere." 

They turned it over in their minds, and 
Dolly Venn spoke nexL 

" Last night in my watch I heard a bell 
ringing, sir. At first I thought it was fancy 
—the sea beating on the rocks or the wind 
moaning in the hills; but I got the ladder 
and went down the hill, and then I heard it 
distinctly, and saw lights burning brightly on 
the reef far out to the north. There were 
boats passing, I'm sure, and what was so 
wonderful that I didn't like to speak about it, 
the whole of the sea about the reef shone 
yellow as though a great lantern were burning 
far down below its heart* I could make out 
the figures of men walking on the rocks, and 
when the moon shone the figures disappeared 
as though they went straight down into the 
UQlid rock. You may not believe it t captain, 
Original from 




but I'm quite sure of what I say, and if Clair- 
de-Lune does not come to-night, I ask you to 
go down the hillside with me and to see for 

Now, the lad spoke in a kind of wonder- 
dream, and knowing how far from his true 
nature such a thing was, it did not surprise 
me that the others listened to him with that 
ready ear which seamen are quick to lend to 
any fairy tale. Superstitious they were, or 
sailors they never would have been ; and 
here was the very stuff to set them all ears, 
like children about a bogey. Nor will I deny 
that Dolly Venn's tale was marvellous enough 
to make a fable. Had it been told to me 
under any other circumstances, my reply 
would have been : " Dolly, my lad, since 
when have you taken to sleep-walking?" 
But I said nothing of the kind, for I had that 
in my pocket which told me it was true; and 
what I knew I deemed it right that the others 
should know also. 

" When a man sees something which strikes 
him as extraordinary," said I, " he must first 
ask himself if it is Nature or otherwise. There 
are lots of things in this world beyond our 
experience, but true for all that. Ken's 
Island may be rated as one of them. The 
old Frenchman speaks of a sleep-time and a 
sun-time. Lads, I do believe he tells the 
truth. If you ask me why — well, the why is 
here, in these papers Ruth Bellenden gave 
me five days ago." 

I took the packet from my pocket and 
turned the pages of them again as I had 
turned them — aye, fifty times — in the days 
which had passed. Thumbed and dirty as 
they were (for a seaman's pocket isn't lined 
with silk); thumbed and dirty, I say, and 
crumpled out of shape, they were the first 
bit of Ruth Bellenden's writing that ever I 
called my own, and precious to me beyond 
any book. 

"Yes," I went on, "this is the story of 
Ken's Island, and Ruth Bellenden wrote it. 
Ten months almost from this day she landed 
here- What has passed between Edmond 
Czerny and her in that time God alone 
knows ! She isn't one to make complaint, 
be sure of it. She has suffered much, as a 
good woman always must suffer when she is 
linked to a bad man. If these papers do 
not say so plainly, they say it by implication. 
And, concerning that, I'll ask you a question. 
What is Edmond Czerny here for? The 
answer's in a word. He is here for the 
money he gets out of the wreckage of ships ! " 

It was no great surprise to them, I venture, 
though surprise I ipeant it \Q be, They had 

Digitized by Google 

guessed something the night we came ashore, 
and seamen aren't as stupid as some take 
them for. Nevertheless, they pricked up 
their ears at my words, and Peter Bligh, 
filling his pipe, slowly, said, after a bit : — 

u Yes, it wouldn't be for parlour games, 
captain ! " 

The others were too curious to put in their 
word, and so I went on : — 

" He's here for wreckage and the money it 
brings him. I'll leave it to you to say what's 
done to those that sailed the ships. There 
are words in this paper which make a man's 
blood run cold. If they are to be repeated, 
they shall be spoken where Edmond Czerny 
can hear them, and those that judge him. 
What we are concerned about at this moment 
is Ken's Island and its story. You've heard 
the old Frenchman, Clair-de-Lune, speak of 
sleep-time and sun-time. As God is in 
heaven, he spoke the truth ! " 

They none of them answered me. Down 
below us the sea shimmered in the morning 
light. We sat on a ledge a thousand feet 
above it, and, save for the lapping waves on 
the reef, not a sound of life, not even a 
bird on the wing, came nigh us. You could 
have heard a pin drop when I went on. 

"Sleep-time and sun-time, is it fable or 
truth ? Ruth Bellenden says it's truth. I'll 
read you her words " 

Peter Bligh said, " Ah," and struck a 
match. Seth Barker, the carpenter, sat for 
all the world like a child, with his great 
mouth wide open and his eyes full of 
wonder. Dolly Venn was curled up at my 
feet like a dog. I opened the papers and 
began to read to them : — 

"On the 14th of August, three weeks 
after the ship brought us to Ken's Island, 
I was awakened at four o'clock in the 
morning by an alarm-bell ringing somewhere 
in the island. The old servant, she whom 
they called ' Mother Meg,' came into my 
room in great haste to tell me to get up. 
When I was dressed my husband entered 
and laughingly said that we must go on board 
the yacht at once. I was perplexed and a 
little cross about it ; but when we were rowed 
out to the ship I found that all the white 
people were leaving the island in boats and 
being rowed to those rocks which lie upon 
the northward side. Edmond tells me that 
there are dangerous seasons in this beautiful 
place, when the whole island is unfit for 
human habitation and all must leave it, some- 
times for a week, sometimes for a month." 

I put the paper down and turned another 
page of it. 

Original from 





(< That, you see," said I, £i is written on 
the 14th of August, before she knew the 
true story or what the dangerous time might 
mean. Passing on, I find another entry on 
September 21st, and that makes it clearer: — 

u There is here a wonderful place they 
call * The House Under the Sea.' It is 
built for those who cannot escape the sleep- 
time otherwise. I am to go there when my 
husband sails for Europe- I have asked to 
accompany him and am refused. There are 
less delicate ways of reminding a woman that 
she has lost her liberty, 

"November 13th, — I have again asked 
Edmond to permit me to accompany him to 
London. He answers that he has his reasons. 
There is a way of speaking to a woman she 
can never forget. My husband spoke in that 
way this morning. 

t( December 12th, — I know Edmond's 
secret, and he knows (hat J know it ! Shall 


I tell it to the winds and 
the waves ? Who else will 
listen? Let me ask of 
myself courage. I can 
neither think nor act to- 

tC December 25th. - - 
Christmas Day ! I am 
alone. A year ago— but 
what shall it profit to re 
member a year ago? I 
am in a prison-house be- 
neath the sea, and the 
waves beat against my 
windows with their moan- 
ing cry, * Never, never 
again— never again J ' At 
night, when the tide has 
fallen, I open my window 
and send a message to the 
sea. Will any hear it ? 1 
dare not hope. 

11 January 1st.— My 
husband has returned 
from his cruise* He is to 
go to Europe to see after 
my affairs. Will he tell 
them, I wonder, that 
Ruth Bellenden is dead? 

"January 8th. —The sleep-time has 
now lasted for nine weeks. They tell 
me that vapours rise up from the land and lie 
above it like a cloud. Some think they 
come from the great poppies which grow in 
the marshy fields of the lowlands ; others say 
from the dark pools in the gorges of the hills. 
However it may be, those that remain on the 
island fall into a trance while the vapour is 
there. A strange thing ! Some never w r ake 
from it ; some lose their senses ; the negroes 
alone seem able to live through it The 
vapours arise quite suddenly ; we ring the 
alarm-bell to send the people to the ships* 

" January 15th* — We returned to the 
island to-day. How blind and selfish some 
people are ! I do believe that Aunt Rachel 
is content to live on this dreadful place. She 
is infatuated with Edmond. *I am anchored 
securely in a home/ she says, *The house 
under the sea is a young man's romantic 
fancy/ The rest is meaningless to her — a 
man's whim* ' I cannot dissipate my for- 
tune on Ken's Island.* Aunt Rachel was 
always a miser. 

11 February 2nd. — -This morning Edmond 
came to me for that which he calls ' an 
understanding, 1 His affection distresses me. 
Oh, it might all be so different if I would 
but say * yes.' And what prevents me— the 
Original from 




voices I have heard on the reef; or is it 
because I know — I know ? 

44 February 9th. — I am on the island again 
and the sun is shining. What I have suffered 
none shall ever know. I prefer Edmond 
Czerny's anger to his love. We understand 
each other now. 

"February 21st. — My message to the sea 
remains unanswered. Will it be for ever? 

" March 3rd. — If Jasper Begg should come 
to me, how would they receive him ? How 
could he help me ? I do not know — and yet 
my woman's heart says 4 Come ! ' 

"April 4th. — There has been a short re- 
currence of the sleep-time. A ship struck 
upon the reef, and the crew rowed ashore to 
the island. I saw them last night in the 
moonlight, from my windows. They fell one 
by one at the border of the wood and slept. 
You could- count their bodies in the clear 
white light. I tried to shut the sight from 
my eyes, but it followed me to my bedroom ! 
. " May 3rd. — I whispered my message to 
the sea again, but am alone — God knows 
how much alone ! " 

I folded up the papers and looked at the 
others. Peter Bligh's pipe had gone out and 
lay idle in his hand. Dolly Venn was still 
curled at my feet. Seth Barker I do not 
believe had budged an inch the whole time I 
was reading. The story gripped them like a 
vice — and who shall wonder at that ? For, 
mark you, it might yet be our story. 

"Peter," said I, "you have heard what 
Madame Czerny says, and you know now as 
much as I do. I am waiting for you: 

He picked up his pipe and began to fill it 

" Captain," says he, " what notions can I 
have which wouldn't be in any sane head ? 
This island's a death-trap, and the sooner 
we're off it the better for our healths. 
What's happened to the ship, the Lord only 
knows ! At a guess I would say that an 
accident's overtook her. Why should a man 
leave his shipmates if it isn't by an accident? 
Mister Jacob is not the one to go psalm- 
singing when he knows we're short of 
victuals and cooped up here like rats in a 
trap ! Not he, as I'm a living man ! Then 
an accident's overtook him ; he doesn't come, 
because he can't come, which, as my old 
father used to say, was the best of reasons. 
Putting two and two together, I should speak 
for sailing away without him, which is plain 
reason anyway." 

44 W 7 e walking on the sea, the likes of 

Vol. xxiii.— 26, 

which the parson talks about?" chimed in 
Seth Barker. 

44 If you haven't got a boat," says Dolly 
Venn, " I don't see how you are to make one 
out of seaweed ! Perhaps Mister Jacob will 
come back to-morrow." 

44 And perhaps we sha'n't be hungry before 
that same time ! " added Peter Bligh ; 4t aye, 
that's it, captain, where's the dinner to come 

I thought upon it a minute, and then I 
said to them : — 

44 If Dolly Venn heard a bell ringing last 
night that's the danger-bell of which Miss 
Ruth speaks. We cannot go down to the 
island, for doesn't she say it's death to be 
caught there ? We cannot stop up here or 
we shall die of hunger. If there's a man 
among you that can point to a middle course, 
I shall be glad to hear him. We have got to 
do something, lads, that's sure ! " 

They stared at me wonderingly ; none of 
them could answer it. We were between the 
devil and the deep sea, and in our hearts I 
think we began to say that if the ship did not 
come before many hours had passed, four of 
her crew, at least, would cease to care whether 
she came or stopped. 



The day fell powerfully hot, with scarce a 
breath of wind and a Pacific sun beating 
fiercely on the barren rocks. What shelter 
was to be had we got in the low cave behind 
the platform ; but our eyes were rarely 
turned away from the sea, and many a time 
we asked each other what kept Clair-de-Lune 
or why the ship was missing. That the old 
man had some good reason I made certain 
from the beginning ; hut the ship was a 
greater matter. Either she was powerless 
to help us or Mister Jacob had mistaken 
his orders. I knew not what to think. 
It was enough to be trapped there on that bit 
of a rock and to tell each other that, sleep- 
time or sun-time, we should be dead men if 
no help came to us. 

44 Belike the Frenchman's took with the 
fog and is doing a bit of a doze on his own 
account," said Peter Bligh, gloomily, toward 
three bells in the afternoon watch — and little 
enough that wasn't gloomy he'd spoken that 
day. 44 Well, sleep won't fill my canteen 
anyway ! I could manage a rump-steak, 
thank you, captain, and not particular about 
the onions ! " 

They laughed at his notion of it, and Seth 
Barker sympathetically pegged his belt up 


i 9 4 


one. I was more sorry for little Dolly Venn 
than any of them, though his pluck was 
wonderful to see. 

"Are you hungry, Dolly, lad?' 1 I asked 
him, by -and -by. Foolish question that 
it was, he answered me with a boy's bright 
laugh and something which could make light 
of it :— 

" It's good for the constitution to fast, sir," 
he said, bravely ; " our curate used to tell us 
so when I went to church. We shall all be 
saints — and Mr. Peter will have a halo if 
this goes on long enough ! " 

Now, Peter Bligh didn't take to that notion 
at all, and he called out, savagely : — 

" To blazes with your halos ! Is it 
Christianity to rob an honest man of his 
victuals ? Give me a round of top-side and 
leave me out of the stained-glass window ! 
I'm not taking any, lad — my features isn't 
regular, as my poor " 

" Peter, Peter," said I, bringing him to, 
" so it's top-side to-day ? It was duck and 
green peas yesterday, Peter ; but it won't be 
that to-night, not by a long way ! " 

" If we sit on this rock long enough," 
chimed in Seth Barker, who was over-patient 
for his size, " some on us will be done like a 
rasher. I wouldn't make any complaint, 
captain ; but I take leave to say it isn't 

I had meant to say as much myself, but 
Peter Bligh was in before me, and so I let 
him speak. 

" Fog or no fog," cries he, " I'm for the 
shore presently, and that's sure and certain. It 
ain't no handsome vulture that I'm going 
to feed anyway ! I don't doubt that you'll 
come with me, captain. Why, you could 
play * God save the King ' on me and hear 
every note ! I'm a toonful drum, that's what 
I am " 

" Be what you like, but don't ask us to 
dance to your music," said I, perhaps a little 
nettled; "as for going down, of course we 
shall, Peter. Do you suppose I'm the one to 
die up here like a rat in a trap ? Not so, I 
do assure you. Give me twilight and a clear 
road, and I'll show you the way quick 
enough ! " 

I could see that they w r ere pleased, and 
Dolly Venn spoke up for them. 

" You won't go alone, sir ? " asked he. 

"Indeed, and I shall, Dolly, and come 
back the same way. Don't you fear for me, 
my lad," said I ; " I've been in a fog before 
in my life, and out of it, too, though I never 
loved them overmuch. If there's danger 
down below, one man has eyes enough to 

see it. It would be a mortal waste and pity 
that four should pay what one can give. But 
I won't forget that you are hungry, and if 
there's roast duck about, Peter Bligh shall 
have a wing, I promise him." 

Well, they all sat up at this ; and Peter 
Bligh, very solemnly crossing his fingers 
after the Italian fashion, swore, as seamen 
will, that we'd all go together,, good luck or 
bad, the devil or the deep sea. Seth Barker 
was no less determined upon it ; and as for 
Dolly Venn, I believe he'd have cried like a 
child if he'd been left behind. In the end I 
gave way to them, and it was agreed that we 
should all set out together, for better or 
worse, when the right time came. 

" Your way, lads, not mine," said I ; and 
pleased, too, at their affection. " As you wish 
it, so shall it be ; and that being agreed 
upon I'll trouble Peter Bligh for his tobacco, 
for mine's low. We'll dine this night, fog 
or no fog. 'Twould want to be something 
sulphurous, I'm thinking, to put Peter off 
his grub. Aye, Peter, isn't that so ? What 
would you say now to an Irish stew with a 
bit of bacon in it, and a glass of whisky to 
wash it down ? Would fogs turn you back ? " 

"No, nor Saint Patrick himself, with a 
shillelagh in his hand. I'm mortal empty, 
captain ; and no man's more willing to leave 
this same bird's nest though he had all the 
sulphur out of Vesuvius on his diagram ! 
We'll go down at sunset, by your leave, and 
God send us safely back again ! " 

The others echoed my " Amen," and for 
an hour or more we all sat dozing in the 
heat of the angry day. Once, I think toward 
seven bells of the watch, Dolly Venn pointed 
out the funnels of a steamer on the northern 
horizon ; but the loom of the smoke was 
soon lost, and from that time until six o'clock 
of the afternoon I do not think twenty words 
were to be heard on the rock. We were just 
waiting, waiting, like weary men who have a 
big work to do and are anxious to do it ; and 
no sooner had the sun gone down and a fresh 
breeze of night begun to blow than we 
jumped to our feet and told each other that 
the time had come. 

" Do you, Peter, take the ladder and let 
Seth Barker steady the end of it," said I. 
"The road's tricky enough, and precious 
little dinner you'll get at the bottom of a 
thousand-foot chasm ! If there's men on the 
island, we shall know that soon enough. 
They cannot do more than murder us, and 
murder has merits when starvation's set 
against it. Come on, my lads," said I, "and 
keep a weather eye cpci> n " 




This I said, and willingly they heard me ; 
no gladder party ever went down a hillside 
than we four, whom hunger drove on and 
thirst made brave. Dangerous places, which 
we should have crossed with wary feet at any 
oth^r time, now found us reckless and hasty, 

We bridged the chasms with the ladder, 
and slid down it as though it had been a 
rope. The bird's nest, where five days ago 
we'd first found shelter from the islanders, 
detained us now no longer than would suffice 
for thirsty men to bathe their faces and their 
hands in the brook which gushed out from 
the hillside, and to drink a draught which 
they remembered to their dying day. Aye, 
refreshing it was, more than words can tell, 
and such strength it gave us that, if there 
had been a hundred men on the mountain 
path, I do believe our steps would still have 
been set for the bungalow. For we were 
about to learn the truth. Curiosity is a good 
wind, even when you're hungry. 

Now, there was a place on the headland, 
three hundred feet above the valley, per- 
haps, whereat the hill path turned and, 
for the first time, the island was plainly 
to be seen. Here at this place we stopped 
all together and began to spy out the 
woods through which we had raced for 
our lives six days ago. The sun had but 
just set then, and, short as the twilight is 
in these parts, there was enough of it for us 
to make a good observation and to be sure of 

many things. What I think struck us all at 
the first was the absence of any fog such as 
we had heard about both from the Frenchman 
and Ruth Bellenden's diary. A bluish 
vapour, it is true, appeared to steam up 
from the woods and to loom in hazy 
clouds above the lower marshland. But 
of fog in the proper sense there 
was not a trace ; and although I began 
to find the air a little heavy to breathe, and 
a curious stupidness, for which I could 
not altogether account, troubled my head, 
nevertheless I made sure that the story of 
sleep-time was, in the main, a piece of non- 
sense and that w T e should soon prove it to be 
.so. Nor were the others behind me in this. 

" It is no fog I see which would slow me 
down a knot ! " said Peter Bligh, when the 
island came into view ; "to think that a man 
should go without his dinner for yon peat 
smoke ! Surely, captain, they are simple in 
these parts and easy at the bogeys. Twill 
be roast duck, after all — and, maybe, the 
sage thrown in ! " 

This was all well said, but Dolly Venn, 
quicker with his eyes, remarked a stranger 

" There's no one about, sir, that I can 
see/ 7 said he, wisely, "and no lights in the 
houses either. I wonder where all the 
people are? It's curious that we shouldn't 
see someone." 

He put it as a kind of question ; but 

«Wv, UTW r„ H 




before I could answer him Seth Barker 
chimed in with his deep voice, and pointed 
toward the distant reef: — 

44 1 hey've lit up the sea, that's what they've 
done," said he. 

" By thunder, they have ! " cries Peter 
Bligh, in his astonishment; "and generous 
about it, too. Saw anyone such a thing' as 

He indicated the distant reef, which 
seemed, as I bear witness, ablaze with lights. 
And not only the reef, mark you, but the sea 
about it, a cable's length, it may be, to the 
north and the south, shone like a pool of fire, 
yellow and golden, and sometimes with a rare 
and beautiful green light when the darkness 
deepened. Such a spectacle I shall never 
see again if I sail a thousand ships ! 
That luscious green of the rolling seas, the 
spindrift tossed in crystals of light, foam 
running on the rocks, but foam like the 
water of jewels, a dazzling radiance — aye, a 
very carpet of quivering gold. Of this had 
they made the northern channel. How it 
was done, what cleverness worked it, it 
needed greater brains than mine to say. I 
was for all the world like a man struck dumb 
with the beauty of something which pleases 
and awes him in the same breath. 

44 Lights under the sea, and people living 
there ! It's enough to make a man doubt 
his senses," said I. " And yet the thing's 
true, lads : we're sane men and waking ; it 
isn't a story-book. You can prove it for 

44 Aye, and men going in and out like lands- 
men to their houses," cried Peter, almost 
breathless ; 44 it's a fearsome sight, captain, a 
fearsome sight, upon my word." 

The rest of us said nothing. We were 
just a little frightened group that stared 
open-mouthed upon a seeming miracle. If 
we regarded the things we saw with a sea- 
man's reverence, let no one make complaint 
of that. The spectacle was one to awe any 
man; nor might we forget that those who 
appeared to live below the sea lived there, 
as Ruth Bellenden had told us, because the 
island was a death-trap. We were in the trap 
and none to show us the road out. 

44 Peter," said I, suddenly, for I wished to 
turn their thoughts away from it, "are you 
forgetting it's dinner-time ? " 

44 1 clean forgot, captain, by all that's 
holy," said he. 

44 And not feeling very hungry, either," 
exclaims Dolly Venn, who had begun to 
cough in the steaming vapour, which we 
laughed at. 1 was anxious about the lad 

already, and it didn't comfort me to hear 
Seth Barker breathing like an ox and telling 
me that it should be clearer in the valley. 

I said, " Yes, it might be," and all together 
we began to march again. A sharp walk 
carried us from the hill path through the 
tangle of bushes into the woods where- 
from danger first had come to us. The 
night had set in by this time and a clear 
moon was showing in the sky. Rare and 
beautiful, I must say, that moonlight was, 
shimmering through the hazy blue vapour 
and coming down almost as a carpet of 
violet between the broad green leaves. No 
scene that I have witnessed upon the stage 
of a theatre was more pleasing to my eyes 
than that silent forest with its lawns of grass 
and its patches of wonderful, fantastic light, 
and its strange silence, and the loneliness of 
which it seemed to speak. So awesome was 
it that I do not wonder we went a consider- 
able way in silence. We were afraid, perhaps, 
to tell each other what we thought. W T hen 
Peter Bligh cried out at last, we started at 
the sound of his voice as though a stranger 
hailed us. 

44 Yonder," cried he, in a Voice grown deep 
and husky; 44 yonder, captain, what do you 
make of that ? Is it living men or dead, or 
do my eyes deceive me ? " 

I stopped short at his words and the others 
halted with me. We were in a deep glen by 
this time ; and all the surrounding woodland 
was shut from our sight. Great trees spread 
their branches like a canopy above us ; the 
grass was soft and downy to the feet ; the 
bewitching violet light gave unnatural yet 
wonderful colours to the flowery bushes about 
us. No fairy glen could have showed a heart 
more wonderful ; and yet, I say, we four 
stood on the borders of it, with white faces 
and blinking eyes, and thoughts which none 
would change even with his own brother. 

Why did we do it, you ask ? Ah, I'll tell 
you why. 

There were three men sleeping in the glen, 
and the face of one was plainly to be seen. 
He lay upon his back, his hands clenched, 
his limbs stiff, his eyes wide open as though 
some fearsome apparition had come to him 
and was not to be passed by. Of the others, 
one had dropped face downward and lay 
huddled up at the tree's foot ; but the third 
was in a natural attitude, and I do believe 
that he was dead. For a long time we stood 
there watching them — for he whose eyes were 
to be seen uttered every now and then a 
dismal cry in his sleep, and the second began 
to talk like a man in a delirium. Spanish he 





spoke, and that is a tongue I do not under- 
stand. But the words told of agony if ever 
words did, and I turned away from the scene 
at last as a man who couldn't bear to hear 

"They're sleeping," said I, "and little 
good to wake them, if Miss Ruth speaks 
true. Come on, lads the shore's our road 
and short's the time to get there." 

Peter liligh reeled dizzily in his walk and 
began to talk incoherently — a thing I had 
never heard him do before in all his life. 

u They're sleeping, aye, and what's the 
waking to be? Is it the mad-house or the 
ground ? She spoke of the mad-house, and, 
who'll deny, with reason ? There was air for 
a man in the heights and no parlour plants. 
I walked forty miles to Cardiff Fair and didn't 
dance like this. Take bread when you've no 
meat, and, by thunder, I'll fill your glasses." 

Well, he gabbled on so, and not one cif us 
gave him a hearing, I had my arm linked in 
Dolly Venn's, for he was weak and hysterical, 
and I feared he'd go under. Seth Barker, 
a strong man always, crashed through the 
underwood like an elephant stampeding. 

The woods, I said, could show us no more 
awesome sight then we had happed upon in 
the hollow ; but there I was wrong, for we 
hadn't tracked a quarter of a mile when we 
stumbled suddenly upon the gardens of the 
bungalow, and there, lying all together, were 
five young girls I judged to be natives, for 
they had the shape of Pacific Islanders, 
and, seen in that strange light, were as 
handsome and taking as European women. 
Asleep they were, you couldn't doubt it ; but, 
unlike the white P men, they lay so still that 
they might have been dead, while nothing 
but their smiling faces told of life and breath- 
ing. They, at least, did not appear to suffer, 
and that was something for our consolation, 

" Look yonder, Dolly lad, and tell me 
what you see," said I, though, truth to tell, 
every word spoken was like a knife through 
my chest ; '* five young women sleeping as 
though they were in their own beds. Isn't 
that a sight to keep a man up ? If they can go 
through with it, why not we — great men that 
have the sea's good health in them? Bear 
up, my boy, we'll find a haven presently," 

I didn't believe it, that g^es without saying, 




nor, for that ma£ter # did he. But wild horses 
wouldn't have dragged the truth from him. 
He was always a rare plucky one, was little 
Dolly Venn, and he behaved as such that 

" Better leave me, sir," he said; "I'm dead 
weight in the boat. Do you go to the beach, 
and perhaps the ship wil| come back. You've 
been very kind to me, Mister Begg, so kind, 
and now it's * good-bye/ just 'good-bye 1 and 
a lonef good- night. " 

"Aye," said I, "and a sharp appetite for 
breakfast in the morning. Did you ever 
hear that I was a bit of a strong man, Dolly? 
Well, you see, I can pick you up as though 
you were a feather, and now that I have got 
you into mv arms I'm going to carry you — 
why, where do you 
think? — i n t o 
Ruth Bellenden's 
house, of course." 

He said no- 
thing, but lay in 
my arms like a 
child Peter Bligh 
had fallen head- 
long by the gate 
of the bungalow, 
and Seth Barker 
was about raving. 
I had trouble to 
make him under- 
stand my words; 
but he took them 
at last and did as 
I told him. 

"Open that 
door — with the 
bludgeon if you 
can't do it other- 
wise. But open 
it, man, open it ! " 

He drew him- 
self up erect and 
dealt a blow upon 
the door which 
might have 
brought down a 
factory chimney. 
I ran into the 
house with Dolly 
Venn in my 
arms, and as I 
ran I called to 
Barker, for God's 
sake, to help 
Mister Bligh, 

There would be 110 one in the house, 
I said , and nothing to be got by 
whispers* We ran a race with death, and 
for the moment had turned the corner before 

"Get Mister Bligh to the house and bar 
up the door after you. The fog will fill it in 
five minutes, and what then ? Do you hear 
me, Seth Barker — do you hear me ? * 

I asked the question plainly enough ; but 
it was not Seth Barker who replied to it. 
You shall judge of my feelings when a bright 
light flashed suddenly in my face and a plea- 
sant voice, coming out of nowhere, said, 
quite civilly : — 

" The door, by all means, if you have any 
regard for your lives or mine ! " 



( To be continued.) Ori g i n a I f ro m 

The Chanirey Bequest. 

By Rudolph de Cordova. 

VERY year, as regularly as the 
spring comes round and the 
Academy opens its doors to 
the picture -gazing public, 
expectancy gathers in the air 
as to who are the lucky 
artists whose work will be bought under the 
terms of the Chanirey Bequest. 

These purchases now make up one of the 
most interesting rooms at the Tate Gallery, 
to which the canvases were moved from 
South Kensing- 
ton, and where, 
as the years go 
by, the collec- 
tion becomes 
larger. I ven- 
ture to believe 
that a vast num- 
ber who cannot 
find their way to 
the Chelsea Em- 
bankment will 
delight in look- 
ing at the repro 
of these pictures 
which essen- 
tially go to make 
up a gallery of 
modern art 

But before 
touching on the 
pictures them- 
selves a few- 
words as to the 
man who caused 
them to be 
brought together 
will not be out 
of place. 

The son of a 
carpenter and 

small farmer who worked near Sheffield, 
Francis Legatt Chan trey, who was born at 
Norton, Derbyshire, on April 7th, 1781, was 
only twelve when his father died. His educa- 
tion was the scanty one which could be 
picked up in the village school, yet before he 
was in his teens he had to face the world, 
and he began earning his living in a 
grocer's shop- When he was sixteen, how- 

From the Fietttr* by Hi>n§elf. 

sixteen, how 

ever, he was so attracted by the work he 
saw in the window of a carver and gilder that 
he proceeded to apprentice himself there for 
three years. During that time he learnt to 
draw portraits in coloured chalks, a statuary 
stonemason taught him the rudiments of 
marble carving, another man taught him to 
paint in oils, and with this stock-in-trade he 
advertised, just after he was twenty-one, that 
he would do portraits and miniatures at from 
two to three guineas each. Portrait paint- 
ing, even at that 
price, was evi- 
dently not lucra- 
tive, for he had 
to make his 
living by wood- 
carving. In this 
connection an 
exceeding ly 
interesting inci- 
dent is related 
of him at a time 
when he had 
made his fame. 
He was dining 
one day at the 
house of Samuel 
Rogers, the 
banker - poet, 
and recognised 
the table as a 
piece of his own 
work* To this 
story I may 
make an addi- 
tion, for the mar- 
ble mantelpiece 
which stood in 
the dining room 
was also recog- 
nised by him as 
another piece of 
his work, and it was so pointed out by 
Rogers to the well - known painter, Mr, 
Frederick (ioodall, R-A*, who as a boy was 
a constant visitor at the house, and who 
thus joins the day of Chantrey with our 
own. Three examples of Mr Good all's work 
are indeed to be seen in the Tate Gallery, 
although none of them is in the Chantrey 
Room. Original from 




Art was assuredly not well paid in the 
early years of the last century, seeing that 
Sir Francis Chan trey — he was knighted by 
George IV. — made the colossal busts of the 
three Admirals, Howe, Duncan, and St. 
Vincent, for^io each for Greenwich Hos- 
pital It would be interesting to discover 
how much they would fetch now were they 
put up to public auction. With examples 
of his work most Londoners are familiar, 
although they are probably quite unaware of 
the fact, for the statue of George IV. in 
Trafalgar Square, the Wellington at the 

enjoined to spend a certain portion every 
year in buying pictures to form a collection 
for the nation, 

That this article should play the part of a 
catalogue, even an illustrated catalogue, to 
the gallery is by no means my intention. I 
propose rather to select a few pictures here 
and there from the collection, which numbers 
nearly eighty, and perhaps on some other 
occasion return to the subject. 

It is always a difficult thing to discover the 
genesis of an idea of a picture as of any other 
artistic work, and it is, therefore, impossible 

[F. D. MIO*. 

Royal Exchange, and the Pitt in Hanover 
Square are, among others, due to him. 

In spite of his saint opportunities of being 
taught he was only thirty-four when he was 
elected an A,R.A., and three years older 
when he dropped the first letter and •became 
a full Royal Academician, an honour a good 
deal thought of, in spite of Mr. Whistler's 
witty dictum that it is "a difference without 
a distinction." 

The greater part of the property Chantrey 
left was bequeathed to go, after the death of 
his widow, to the Royal Academy, which was 

Digitized by G* 

to say at this time what gave Mr. K D. 
Millet his suggestion for ** Between Two 
Fires," which represents an old Puritan 
sitting at an oak table with a meal and a 
bottle of red wine in front of him, while he 
divides his attention between the food and 
the two girls who have got it for him. If 
only the wine tastes as well as it is painted 
it cannot be long before some of the 
Puritanism will have been thawed out of the 
old man's heart, and he will be ready to 
enjoy the holiday time — probably Christmas, 
as the presence of the ivy and holly on the 




chandelier suggests, The Puritan is old 
Colarossi, one of the best -known models of 
the day, who, for Mr. Milks, did something 
which he had never done before and has 
never done since, In order to sit for the 
Puritan he actually shaved off his moustache. 

The two girls were from the country near 
the village of Broadway, where Mr. Millet 
lives ; but there is nothing in any way 
notable about them. 

Undoubtedly the most interesting thing 
connected with the picture is the room in 
which the scene is laid, for it is a corner of 
Mr. Millet's own house. It is a fourteenth- 
century building of some dimensions, with a 
refectory, wardrobe, cellar, oratory, solar, and 
one or two other rooms practically perfect. 

look down into the refectory, According 
to Domesday Book, an abbot and eight lay 
brethren lived in the house, and carried on 
the forming with the aid of forty " villains n 
or common people. The Grange was 
attached to the Abbey of Pershore, and was 
one of a number of similar establishments 
in the neighbourhood, but this is the only 
one which is still extant. 

Mr, Young Hunter's "My lady's Garden " 
reproduces in its landscape the garden of 
Holland House, the use of which he was 
allowed by special permission of Lady 
Ilchester, who owns the Holland House 
estate. The peacocks themselves were 
painted from numerous studies made in Ken- 
sington Gardens, as well as from a pair of 

JVtMji thi Picture b»] 

my i.xnv* GARRFA' 

[Young itn.i'.t 

(By permission of Messrs. C K. Clifford & Co., ai, Haymnrket. owners of the Copyright.) 

The only changes which have been made 
during the passage of the centuries are some 
which have been rendered inevitable by 
necessary repairs, In the oratory and the 
solar, indeed, the open timbered roofs are still 
quite perfect ; but in the refectory some 
rafters and one or two trusses have had to 
be removed. 

In the time of Queen Elizabeth one wing 
of the little building was altered, and there is 
now a fine oak panelled room in it. The 
room itself which is represented in the pic- 
ture is really the refectory, which now serves 
Mr. Millet as a studio. A good speci- 
men of a squint is to be seen in the solan 
so that the abbot who lived there could 

Vol. xxiii. — 20 

Digitized by C-OOQIc 

stuffed ones which were lent to the artist by a 
friend. In those stuffed specimens, however, 
lurked unexpected work, for when the picture 
was almost finished it ivas found that the 
"eyes' 1 in the peacocks tail were all wrong. 
They are really arranged in a perfect mathe- 
matical order, quite different from the way 
they appeared in the stuffed specimens, and a 
comparison with the stuffed specimens in the 
Natural History Department of the British 
Museum showed that even there the same 
error occurred. This discovery necessitated 
a great deal of repainting in order that the 
"eye s? ' might be put in correctly. These 
circles on the tail arc so arranged that a 
straight line drawn from the angles formed 
Original from 




by straight lines joining the centre of the 
circles intersects the diamonds exactly, and 
each diamond is constructed with absolute 
accuracy, These diamond shapes widen out 
as they approach the end of the tail, and the 
eyes also become bigger. 

Who is there who has once seen it who 
does not remember Sir John Everett Millais's 

alive, yet with a body almost too definite to 
be a spirit. 

"That is just the question 1 want every- 
body to ask," said Sir John, with a smile, and 
everyone will, therefore, have to form his 
own opinion for himself. Such a vision, as 
full of reality as if it were the body of 
a woman in all the exquisite beauty of 

From th* Pi*Uu* hj,] " s}'E*K, si'bAK \ *' WirJ. ft MiUm*. /',fc A. 

(By permission of ihe Berlin Photographic Company, 133, N*w Bond Street. London, W,) 

"Speak, Speak!" which was exhibited in the 
Royal Academy in 1895 ? Scrupulously exact 
as he was always known to be in all his work, 
few outside his most intimate professional 
friends are probably aware that the whole 
scene was built up in his studio and was, in 
that way, patiently painted in the actual sur- 
roundings. A good many people have been 
puzzled as to whether the woman at the foot 
of the bed is a real woman, or merely an 
apparition presented to the excited mind of 
the sick man, who saw her as if she were real 
Indeed, it is said that an art critic once went 
to Sir John and asked him that very question, 
hoping to get a definite answer as to the 
painters own intention in representing the 
woman with a face almost too white to be 

by L^OOgle 

life, appeared to Milton and inspired his 
sonnet : — 

Mai bought I saw my bit? espoused saint 

brought 10 me* like Akcsiis rem the grave. 

Her J ace was veiled, yet to my fancied sight 

Love, sweelitess, goodness in her person shined 

So clear, as in no face wiih more delight, 

Hut, oh ! ns to embrace me she Inclined, 

I w..ikeri, she fled, and thy brought luck my night. 

Perhaps, however, with this vivid insight 
into the mind of a great poet, few people who 
see either the original picture or its reproduc- 
tion in little here will have any difficulty in 
coming to a definite decision in the matter. 

Peculiar interest attaches to Lord Leigh- 
ton's picture, " The Bath of Psyche/' for the 
origin of it was a panel paiim-d specially to 
fit a certain place in the hall of his friend, 




Sir Lawrence A 1 ma-Tad e ma, R-A. Indeed, 
the exigencies of the space at his disposal 
were sufficient to account for the peculiar 
nature of the composi- 
tion. When, however, 
he determined to en- 
large the idea for a 
picture he cut off the 
water and the reflec- 
tions from it and 
added the colonnade 
of marble columns in 
order to widen the 
space. It was a typical 
characteristic of the 
dead painter that, 
when the idea occurred 
to him that he might 
elaborate the concep- 
tion he had used as a 
gift to his friend, he 
did not do it without 
first asking Sir Law- 
rence Alma - Tadema 
whether he had any 
objection to this course, 
It need hardly be 
added that the latter 
very willingly con- 
sented to this being 
done, with the result 
that the world of art 
is the richer by a fine 
example of the artist, 
who was as cultured as 
he was gifted in many 
departments of life. 

It is a curious thing 
that although a great 
many people knew the 
late John Pet tie at the 
time he w T as painting 
the "Vigil," which re- 
presents a newly-made 
knight kneeling at the 
altar of the chapel with 
his arms and armour 
in accordance with the 
old custom, I have not 
succeeded in getting 
any particular facts 
about it. One vivid 
circumstance, however, 
throws a most interest- 
ing sidelight on the 
painter's method and 
his acute perception 
which found in himself 
the severest critic. This 


From the Pietura ftp Ij>rd Leiffhton, P.fLA 

(My permission of the EWlln Photographic Company, 

is the fact that no single model sqt for the 
face ; the component features of it were made 
up from several sources. It may perhaps be 
within the recollection 
of some people that 
when it was first exhi- 
bited in the Academy 
it was caricatured in 
Punch as "The Sword- 
Swallower." So gro- 
tesquely a pproi ) riat e 
was the title that several 
artists often speak of it 
by that name, Not 
long ago, in deed , some- 
one went to the 'late 
Gallery and, wanting 
to look at the picture, 
whose proper title he 
did not recall, went to 
one official and asked, 
"Can you tell me where 
' The Sword- Shallower ' 
is ? " " There is no 
picture of that name 
in the gallery," was the 
answer, He 3 however, 
led the way to Pettie's 
picture, and said, f< Per- 
haps that is what you 
are looking for?" and 
the visitor acknow- 
ledged that it was. 

In "Beyond Man's 
Footstep" Mr. Briton 
Riviere, R.A., has 
devoted himself to one 
of those subjects which 
he has made peculiarly 
his own. Quite apart 
from itself it is particu- 
larly interesting as an 
example of the way in 
which the artistic tem- 
perament will some- 
times brood on a sub- 
ject until an allcom- 
pelling impulse forces 
it to be developed, not 
so much for the sake 
of the public as for the 
satisfaction of the artist. 
It must have been 
quite fifteen years from 
the time Mr. Riviere 
first had the idea of 
painting this picture 
until the canvas was 

by Vj( 

133, New Bond Street, Londo^ W^) i fPlf|£ ed ° n l,ie eflSel ancl 





hrvin the i'lrtun by] 

his hand began to fashion what his brain had 
so long ago conceived Although he has 
never been in the Arctic regions, the vast n ess 
of the North has always greaLly fascinated Mr. 
Riviere, and impressed his imagination with 
the fact that the reality must inevitably exceed 

[Joh* Petite. R.A. 

any previous conception of it. Some such 
idea was undoubtedly in his mind when he 
arranged the scheme of the picture, although 
the bear was painted from studies made in 
the Zoo and the wonderful colouring of the 
ice was made from special studies of glacial 

Frxtm tht Fieturt by] 

** J3EVOND bias's footstep.* 

by Google 

Original from 

lliriicn Itirier^RA, 



ice, which, of course, are within the reach 
of any excursionist who goes as far afield as 

" The Sick Child " is one of the numerous 
examples of Mr. Jost-ph Clark's partiality for 
that special subject He is, indeed, known 
as "Sick Child Clark" among his friends, on 
account of the success of this picture — the 
first of the kind he did. It was exhibited as 
long ago as 1857, when he was a very 
young artist indeed, and was, as it were, the 
shadow cast by the traditional coming events. 
" Mothers Darling," the example of his work 

which she wears around her neck is that of 
the St. Cross at Winchester, but there is no 
special significance to be attached to the 
fact that the figure is represented wearing it 
A journalist with a turn for epigram once 
declared some years ago that the greatest 
American actress was a Pole, referring, of 
course, to Mine, Modjeska. In a similar 
way one might say that the most celebrated 
English painter is an American, for Mr, 
j. S. Sargent, R.A., is the son of a Boston 
physician, although he was born in Florence. 
His picture, "Carnation, Lily, Lily, Rose,*' is 


Prom the Pirtur* &y] 


D&vph Cfu/fr, 

which conies within the scope of this article, 
was really begun before there was any 
definite idea as to what the final outcome of 
the picture would be. The artist sketched 
the characteristic attitude of the child, and it 
remained in that condition for a long time 
on the canvas, until in time the idea de- 
veloped itself and the young mother grew 
out of the gloom of imagination into the 
light of realitv* The Greek cross brooch 

Digitized by 1 

popularly supposed to have been painted in 
order to reproduce a certain colour scheme 
which he had in mind. Unhappily, no re- 
production in black and white can give any 
idea of the extraordinary artistry of the 
canvas, with its Chinese lanterns in a garden 
of lilies, roses of pink and red, and the 
crimson and yellowish carnations with their 
greyish leaves in strong contrast with the 
two children in their white dresses. 


2 ah 



From the Pittuw &y| 


[J,$. Saffftnt. H.A. 

It was really a desire to reproduce a 
certain light effect which induced Mr. Seymour 
Lucas, R.A., to paint "After Culloden," 
which was exhibited in the Royal Academy 
in 1884, He was walking down one of the 
rows in Great Yarmouth, and was struck by 
the wonderful arrangement of a forge. He 
thought it would be an exceedingly pic- 
turesque thing to reproduce that forge, and 
with that for his central idea he started to 
build up a story which would enable him to 
carry this into effect. He was a good deal 
interested at the time in the rebellion 
of 1745, and it occurred to him that a 
dramatic moment could be obtained by 
having a Jacobite, flying through a country 
still in favour of the Pretender, stop 
in order to {^et a new shoe to replace the one 
his horse had lost, and, while the men were 

by Google 

engaged in doing thi c , that Cumberland's 
soldiers should break in and discover them. 
It is obvious that at the approach of 
troops the Jacobite would seek a hiding- 
place. Having decided on introducing a 
detachment of the First Regiment of Foot 
Guards, the painter's next point was to make 
the fact of the Jacobite's whereabouts plain 
beyond all question. This was finally done 
by leaving the man's blue coat ori the horse's 
back. His defiance of his pursuers is sug- 
gested by the gauntlet lying on the ground. 
In order to get all the facts he de- 
sired Mr Lucas actually turned his 
studio into a smithy. While travelling in 
Wales he came upon an old smithy which 
practically reproduced all the conditions 
he had in his mind, and he thereupon 
bought it and transferred it— lock, stock, and 




barrel — to London. The smiths used as 
models were not real smiths at all, and the 
central one with the shoe in the tongs was, as 
a matter of fact, Mr* Lucas's own gardener- 
By constantly working in the sun his arms 
had become splendidly tanned, and ;is he 
was a well-developed nun, with some appre- 
ciation of the actor's art, he was able to 
realize the situation very well, for it may 
be remarked in passing that good models 
must, of necessity, have some appreciation 
of the actor's art in order to throw them- 

of Berkshire, quite as well as the famous 
incident in Sir Walter Scott's u K en il worth*" 
The passage in the history of Berkshire is as 
follows : " Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester, 
being the great favourite of the Queen 
Elizabeth, it was thought she would have 
made him her husband ; to this end, to 
free him from all obstacles, he had his wife, 
Amy Robsartj conveyed to the solitary house 
of Cutrmor Hall, in Berkshire, inhabited 
by Anthony Foster, his servant, This same 
Foster, in compliance with what he well 

Frmnth* Pitturtbjtl 

[ ShfHW LucaK It ,4. 

" 1746." 

iS*nrchiiip far Itebcti ii/Ut Culioini J 
(By permission of Messrs. Frost and Heed, Fine Art Publisher*, of Clifton and Bristol, the owners ufihe Copyright, who are 

publishing an engraving of ibe picture of important st/.j ) 

selves into a given character and imagine the 
expression. Mr. Lucas's studio not being on 
the level ground a sand- hank had to be built 
in order to get the horse up and down when 
the time came for painting it, and though 
rather restive at first, it got so accustomed to 
u sitting 53 that it eventually became a very 
good model indeed. 

This picture is now being published as 
an engraving by Messrs. Frost and Reed 
for the first time, and It is by their courtesy 
that I am enabled to reproduce it in this 

It was something of a similar desire 
to Mr. Lucas's that induced Mr, William 
F. Yeanies, R.A., to start work on his 
life size picture of " Amy Robsart/' which 
reproduced a passage in Aubrey's history 

Digitized by L^OOQ lC 

knew to be the Earl's wishes, came with 
others in the dead of night to the lady's bed 
chamber and stifled her in bed and flung 
her dowtistairs, thereby believing the world 
would have thought it u mischance and so 
blinded their villainy : and the morning after* 
with the purpose that others should know of 
her endj did Foster 3 on pretence of carrying 
out some behest of the Countess, bring a 
servant to the spot where the poor lady's 
body lay at the foot of the stairs." 

This may be compared with the following 
passage from il Kenilworth" :— 

" In less than two minutes Foster, who 
remained behind, beard the tread of a horse 
in the courtyard, and then a whistle similar 
to that which was the Earl's usual signal ; 
the instant after the door of the Countess's 




Frem ike Picture by] 


I H', Fr riwiiiy 

chamber opened, and in the same moment 
the trap-door gave way, 

"There was a rushing sound a heavy fall 
— a faint groan --mid nil was over 

"'Look down into the^ vault: what seest 
thou ? ' 

" * I see only a heap of white clothes like a 

It in worth recalling in this connection that 
Edward VI. attended the wedding of Robert 
Dudley and Amy Robsart in 1556; and in 
[560, when living at Cumnor, not fe r from 

Digitized by tit 

Oxford p she sent all her servants to Abingdon 
fiir, and when they returned she was found 
dead at the foot of the staircase. The verdict 
in her death was u mischance," The man 
seen in the picture is Tony Foster, and the 
other is the young servant whom he brought, 
as recounted in the " history/' It was seeing 
a staircase in the Palais de Cluny in Paris 
similar to that in the picture which inspired 
Mr Yeames to begin work on a subject that 
had been for some considerable time in his 

m[lld Original from 

" Try Not That Pass!" 

By Robert Bark. 

k\ ' r^S ^I ^^ tramp had assumed an 
easy, careless attitude, with his 
right foot on the platform of 
the veranda, while the pro- 
prietor of the cottage stood as 
negligently leaning against one 
of the pillars looking quizzically down upon 
his visitor. 

**Yes f sir/' the tramp was saying, "I've 
been in the railway business myself, and, 
before now, have ridden in my own private 
ear all over the United States," 

His auditor evidently did not believe this 
assertion, for, although he said nothing, he 
smiled incredulously, 

11 1 began, fi continued the tramp, u as 
telegrapher on the Michigan Central " 

"And rose to be general manager, 1 
suppose/' interjected the listener, " thus 
acquiring your 
private car. 3t 

"Not exactly 
that," rejoined 
the tramp, 
"but I have 
enjoyed my 
private car 
I see you do 
not credit my 
statein ent," 
and the raga- 
muffin heaved 
a deep, regret- 
ful sigh, 

** I haven't said I 
doubted you, and 
indeed your lan- 
guage is select 
enough to warrant 
the assumption that 
you are a genera 
manager now. How- 
ever, the immediate 
point is that you want a 
meal, and you suppose I 
tan supply it I warn you 
that I do my own cooking 
here and the repast may not 
suit your fastidious taste. If, 
in spite of this caution, you 
are prepared to lunch with 
me, I shall be pleased to have 
your company on condition 
that you tell me how you 
came by your private car." 

Vol. xxiiL— 27. 

igilized by t.GOgle 

" Willingly," cried the tramp, stepping up 
on the veranda with an air that suggested 
polite training, "I have been at times my 
own cook alongside the dusty highway, and I 
have no doubt your efforts in the culinary 
line far excel mine," 

The proprietor bo wed t and said by way of 
introduction : — 

" My name is Willis Norton." 

**And mine," said the tramp, with equal 
savoir faire^ "is Wandering Willie, a 
pseudonym I have adopted from a pathetic 
Scottish song of that name. Obvious family 
reasons prevent that candour which you have 
just displayed in the frank enunciation of 
your own cognomen," 

E * Bless me," cried Norton, with a laugh, as 
he led the way into the cottage, " I believe 
you are, in disguise, the society reporter of 
some newspaper.' 1 

The tramp smiled indul- 


I confess," he said, 4t I 
\ been connected with 
Press in my time." 
table stood under the 
deep shade of aback 
veranda, and the 
outlook was so good 
that even the tramp 
gazed at it in ad- 
miration. The pine 
cottage had been 
built close to the 
strand of a narrow 
lake, which might 
have been mistaken 
for a wide river. 
The sandy beach 
was nearly as white 
as snow and the 
waters of the lake 
were clear as crys- 
tal. On the oppo- 
site banks were 
palmettos with here 
and there a dense 
mass of sub-tropical 

11 Has it a name?" 
asked the tramp, 
indicating the sheet 
of water. 

"Well, I call it 
Lake Oronto, al- 
though I believe 


Original from 



it is nameless on the map, and I think it the 
prettiest little sheet of water in all Florida. 
Take a chair, if you please." 

"Yes," said the tramp, seating himself, 
"you have certainly a most enticing prospect 
One can hardly credit the fact that it is mid- 
winter up North." 

Norton set out the meal with a deftness 
that indicated long practice, and drew up a 
chair opposite his guest. 

" If you will excuse me," said the latter, 
" I shall not begin to talk until I have made 
some progress with this appetizing repast. 
I am very hungry." 

" I am glad of that," said Norton, genially, 
" for a good appetite excuses a poor cook." 

There was silence for a few minutes, dur- 
ing which Norton absently drummed on the 
table with his fingers, for he had lunched an 
hour previously, and sat there merely out of 
courteousness to his visitor. Suddenly the 
tramp threw back his head and laughed. 

" I knew you didn't believe me," he saifi. 
" I suppose it is by design, and not accident, 
that you are at this moment telegraphing 
your opinion of me with the ends of your 
fingers on the table." 

Norton smiled and did not deny it 

" You have been a railroad man yourself, 
perhaps ? " continued the tramp. 

" Yes, I was in the manager's office, under 
old Mitcham. on the Sand Bag Route, until 
my health broke down, then I came to 
Florida, bought a few hundred acres of 
land, own at least part of this lake, and have 
been vegetating for some years." 

The tramp looked at him, critically. 

11 Your health appears to be all right," he 

" Oh, it is thoroughly re-established, and I 
yearn for my old position. I have applied 
for it, but it is filled. When a man drops 
out of business in this country he finds it 
hard to overtake his lost opportunity." 

" My railroading is done outside the 
manager's office," said the tramp, pushing 
back his empty plate, " and I have often 
wondered why you legitimate railway men 
don't try to get some inkling of the business 
from the hobo's point of view." 

" Have a cigar ? " said Norton, offering 
him a bunch. 

The tramp made a selection, bit off one 
end, and lit the other, with a courteous 
murmur of thanks. 

" I have- travelled free on most of the 
railways of the United States and yet never 
owned a pass," he went on. " At last it 
struck me that, with my knowledge of tele- 

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graphing and penmanship, I ought to have a 
private car. If you know the ropes and take 
care that your actions are in line with custo- 
mary usage, then, if you don't see what you 
want, all you have to do is to ask for it 
Almost anything is possible on our admirable 
railway system. I selected a grain car 
belonging to the C.B. and Q., lying disused 
on a siding in Indiana. I picked up a 
couple of railway padlocks, easily found if 
you know where to look for them, and so 
fastened the outside doors, after which I was 
never disturbed." 

" But, good gracious," exclaimed Norton, 
"you cannot put on a padlock from the 
inside of the car ? " 

" No, but you can saw a little door at the 
end of the car just above the floor, screw- 
nail any kind of hinges on the inside, and by 
smearing the joints outside with paint or 
mud no brakeman will ever notice it ; that 
lets you out and in, and the big doors being 
locked there is no intrusion on your privacy. 
You will need a telegraph instrument, which 
doesn't cost more than a few dollars, and if 
you have some printed car-labels they will 
come handy, although a bit of chalk will do 
nearly as well. You take the number of 
this car, then tap the telegraph line and 
order the operator during a lull in proceed- 
ings to attach car number so-and-so to West- 
bound train No. 7, for instance. And thus 
you send the car wherever you please. I 
found by experience that it was well to avoid 
large cities, so I generally laid up some ten 
miles from Chicago or St. Louis, for instance. 
You fit up the car on the inside to suit your 
taste, with a mattress you have found some- 
where, or with old clothes that are given 
you, and you may even have a fire to 
broil a bit of steak or fry some ham, 
but that is dangerous and may lead to 
discovery or conflagration. I lost my first 
car through inadvertently, or thoughtlessly, 
rather, running it over the C.B. and Q. route 
once too often. This car had been missing 
for a year or two, and so an acute official 
nabbed it It had got to be a very comfort- 
able car, and I was sorry to part with it." 

" But," cried the amazed Norton, " how 
about way-bills and that sort of thing ? They 
keep a record of every car — where it has 
come from, where it is sent to, and all 

The tramp spread out his hands and 
shrugged his shoulders. 

" I told you," he said, " that I was familiar 
with the outside of the manager's office and 
not with the inside. I am merely informing 
Original from 



21 I 

y -i ■-. n -in 


you what I have dons and not in any way 
trying to account for it, as I do not under- 
stand their system of book-keeping, I know 
that if you tap a wire and order the operator 
to attach car No. 3,36; to freight-train No. 4 
he will do it if a car bearing that number is 
on his siding. A label or a chalk- mark will, 
send the car where you wish it sent. And 
now, Mr. Norton, I must thank you for an 
excellent meal, so daintily supplemented by 
this choice cigar. One might deduct from 
its aroma, even if he knew nothing of 
geography, that Florida is in proximity to 
Havana, If I meet you at Delmonico's in 
New York you must dine with me. I'll take 
no refusal. I spend my winters in Florida 
and California and my summers in New 
York or New England, sometimes visiting 
the Western States, Good-bye. " 

Norton sat and pondered long after his 
guest had departed. The story of the tramp, 
although he did not in the least believe it, 
had set him thinking. If he could prove to 
old Mitcham, the manager of the Sand Bag 
Route, that there were several grave faults 
in the working of the line which that alert 
young man, Willis Norton, had been clever 
enough to discover, there was a chance 
that Mitcham might offer him his old 
situation t or perhaps some other post in 
the office a step or two farther down the 
ladder. Yet, unless he had proof of what the 
hobo said, there was little use in going to so 
shrewd a man as old Mitcham with the tale. 
One remark of this casual traveller stuck to 
him. He had said in effect that if you 
adhered to the form and routine of railway 


by Google 

work anything was 
possible. This sug- 
gested a scheme 
to Norton which 
would show old 
Mitcham that 
there was careless- 
ness to be a mended 
in railway practice, 
and if the scheme 
were successful he 
would have in 
hand documentary 
proof of his state- 
ment He fished 
a discoloured ob- 
long card out of 
his pocket - book 
— -*ii ^l^^JSW and gazed thought- 

fully upon it* It 
was his personal 
pass over the Sand 
Bag Route, main line and branches, now 
several years out of date, nnd of no value 
even to the owner. It should have been 
called in when it expired, but was never 
asked for, and so had remained in his pocket- 

Next morning early he got upon his horse 
and rode to Sn villa, the nearest railway 
station, and there took train for Jacksonville. 
Once in the chief city of Florida he went 
direct to the leading printing-house and said 
to the foreman : — - 

" I am in rather a hurry, and want a little 
job done for me with neatness and dispatch, 
I wish you to print for me a hundred letter 
heads with the words 4 l^ike Oronto Naviga- 
tion Company, Lake Oronto, Florida/ Then 
I wish you to duplicate this pass on suitable 
cardboard; all except the heading, which is 
to be M,ake Oronto Navigation Company/ 
with the cut of a river steamer underneath. 
I would like the letter-paper finished first, if 
you please." 

The order was completed with the skill 
and artistic excellence characteristic of an 
enterprising American printing-house, When 
the young man received these packages he 
took them to a type-writing office and had 
the girl rattle off several dozen of the follow- 
ing letters, each addressed to different railway 
managers : — 

" I^ike Oronto Navigation Company, 
11 Lake Oronto, Florida, Jan. 17th, 18 — . 
11 Dear Sir, — I have pleasure jn inclosing 
an annual pass made out in your name and 
good until the end of the year. This should 
have been sent off last month, but, as you 
Original from 




are aware, we are now in the midst of the 
tourist season m Florida and press of business 
has caused the delay.— -Yours very truly, 
" Willis Norton, 
"General Manager, L.O.N, Co." 

While these letters were being typed he 
wrote on the various cards, in a beautiful 
Spencerian hand, the names of the various 
railway managers, and underneath scrawled 
his own title in quite a different style of 
calligraphy — the sign-manual of an exceed- 
ingly busy man burdened with numerous 
cares, the signature being very illegible, 
looking somewhat like a spread-eagle struck 
by lightning, These were inclosed, each 
with its proper communication, stamped, and 
sent off. This piece of bogus business 
dispatched, Norton took the evening train 
back to Savilla, and so home to his lonely 
cabin again. 

Curiously enough, the first response received 
was over the well -known scribble of old 
Mitcham, and the formal letter inclosed a 
cardboard annual pass authorizing Willis 
Norton, Esquire, to travel free on the Sand 
Bag Route and all its branches until the 
31st of December that year. All this was 

by OtK" 


before the Inter- State Commerce Act was 
passed, and perhaps to-day such a result 
is not to be looked for. But before two 
weeks Willis Norton had accumulated a 
varied assortment of annual passes as bulky 
as a pack of cards. The very success of 
his plan rather frightened him. He had 
expected one or more to have written him, 
l£ You have taken the 17th of January for 
the ist of April There is no I^ake Oronto 
Navigation Company*" However, no one 
discovered the non existence of the Navi- 
gation Company, but the question occurred 
to his mind, if they did, what would 
happen ? He said to himself that his 
conscience was clear so long as he did not 
use any of the passes, which he had no 
intention of doing* He had asked for 
nothing and had received much. Never- 
theless, he felt himself in the position of 
the man who had the tiger by the tail, and 
didn't know whether to let go or hang on. 
He had intended at first to send his own 
old useless pass only to old Mitcham, 
together with the new one, but reflection 
showed him that if he proved the Mitcham 
system to be lax and careless he would 
merely anger that irascible magnate and 
render for ever impossible his chance of 
getting a situation in his former office, 
so he resolved to show Mitcham the 
slipshod methods of other lines without 
saying anything of the Sand Bag Route. 
But if the manager claimed such a thing 
was impossible on his road, then the 
Mitcham line pass would be used as the 
right bower of the game. But now that 
he had all the material ready he became 
more and more reluctant to use it Up to 
the present his action had been merely a 
practical joke on various estimable railway 
companies, but if he took advantage of the 
outcome tu further Ins worldly prospects he 
had doubts about the strict honesty of the 
proceeding. Thus the days passed over his 
head without any definite move on his part 
He said to himself that he did not wish to 
go North during the cold season, but he 
became more and more convinced that he 
would not use the passes for any purpose 

One day the ghost of his bogus company 
arose and confronted hftn. He heard a call 
on the road, and, going to the veranda, he 
saw that a neat covered buggy had driven up 
silently in the sand. Its sole occupant was a 
fashionably dressed young woman, on whose 
fair brow was an expression of perplexity. 
She held in her hand a card on which she 

Original from 



was gazing fixedly, and by intuition rather 
than by sight he jumped to the conclusion 
that it was one of his own unfortunate passes, 

" I fear I have lost my way/' said the girl. 
11 Can you tell me which direction I should 
take for I^ike Oronto ? w 

"This is Lake Oronto/' replied Norton. 

* c Then I must have reached the wrong 
side of it I am looking for the offices of the 
Navigation Company and for a man whose 
name is on this card, but I cannot quite 
make it out ; it looks like ' Washington.' 
Perhaps you can read it ? * 

She handed him the pass signed by him* 

"The signature is rather 
difficult/' admitted the young 
man, wondering what on earth 
he could say to her ; u it stands 
for Willis Norton. I may add 
that I am Mr. Norton, and that 
this is the office of the Navi- 
gation Company." 

" Really ? ff cried 
the girl, with arched 
eye br o ws, glancing 
over cottage and 
man with a look of 
surprise. " Then I 
have been right after 
all When is the 
steamer due ? " 

" It won't be along 
for quite a while yet/ 
stammered Norton f 
in faltering accents. 

tl Ah, I'm glad I 
am in time* Won't 
you ask someone to 
take care of my horse 
and give him a feed 
of oats ? " 

"I will look after 
your horse/ 1 said 
Norton, assisting her to alight 
and placing at her disposal a 
rocking-chair on the veranda 
" All my servants are away 
at Sa villa for the day ? " he 
added, recklessly. 

He was glad of the oppor- 
tunity of attending to the horse that he might 
collect his thoughts and make up his mind 
what he should say to this charming and un- 
expected visitant. Once in the stable he looked 
again at the card, and saw it was made out to 
E- B. Howard, General Manager of the Great 
C,X. and G- line, whose head*quarters were 
in Chicago. He resolved at once to seek 


■ ■:>■;.: k J Mi 

by Google 

refuge in the clause which stated that if this 
pass were presented by any other than the 
person named, it was to be taken up and the 
full fare charged- He returned slowly to the 
veranda and found his caller very com- 
placently rocking herself to and fro, gazing 
across the sandy road at the forest. 

** May I ask your name ?" he inquired* 
" My name is Sadie Howard, and my 
father is manager of the CX. and G* Rail- 

11 Do you intend to travel on this pass ? It 
is good only for the person named." 

*'Oh, that doesn't matter," replied the 
young lady, airily ; " I always 
get transportation when I show 
one of my father's cards. Still, 
it is of no moment whatever, 
1 am quite willing to pay my 
fare T having come so far. I 
am staying at the Alhambra, 
in Savilla, and my father sent 
this pass down to me when he 
wrote the other day, so I 
thought I would drive over 
and see the lake. Do you 
wish the money now for the 
round trip ? n and she made 
an ineffectual search for her 

" No, no," replied 
Norton, hastily; 
"the — the — the 
clerk on the boat 
attends to all that r 
you know." 

M Oh, of course," 
she said, subsiding 
again into her 

He stood there 
altogether non- 
plussed, feeling him- 
self to be the biggest 
fool in all the United 

|^ J?||| r " Wlien does lhe 

steamer come ? " she 
asked, looking up at 

M Well, you know, 
she is kind of irregular. This is our busy 

The girl smiled. 

11 It does not seem very busy round here," 
she said, 

11 NOj no, not right ktre / of course not 
Vou see, we are a sort of— sort of way station, 
if 1 may put it in that light." 

Original from 





" Oh, I thought you said this was the head 

" Not exactly the head office — not the 
head office. No ! L come here merely to 
get away from the bustle at the other end of 
the lake. I like to get away now and then 
and — and rest, you know," 

" Yes, I understand. That's just the way 
my father feels about Chicago, but it's very 
seldom he gets a vacation. Wasn't that the 
whistle I heard just now?" 

The unfortunate Norton recognised the 
sound as the cry of a friendly owl, accus- 
tomed to wake the echoes at night and 
occasionally, when disturbed, hooting during 
the day. 

11 1 think,' 1 he said, breathlessly, "we had 
better get into the small boat and be ready." 

"Oh, very well," replied the girl, rising. 

He led her through the cottage to the back 
veranda, picking 
up a few cushions 
on his way. These 
he arranged on the 
back seat of his 
trim little skiff) and 
handed the young 
woman over the 
gunwale, S h e 
seated herself and 
cried out with ad- 
miration at the 
beauty of the lake. 

" How clear it is, 
and how pretty that 
beach of silver 
sand ! It is an en- 
chanting spot." 

" Yes," responded 
Norton ; " tourists 
consider it one of 
the choicest bits of 
scenery in Florida. " f 

" H ow strange 
that I never had 
heard of it until 
my father wrote, I 
am very glad I 
came- You have 
no pier here, I see, and so I suppose take 
passengers on and off from this boat?" 

" Exactly/' responded the general manager, 
pushing off the skiff and picking up the oars. 

He rowed in silence for some distance 
over the placid water, the girl at first giving 
expression to exclamations of delight, hut by- 
and-by she ceased her comments and began 
to look anxiously up and down the lake. 

"I see nothing of the steamer," she ex- 
claimed, at last 

Norton drew a deep sigh, rested on his 
oars, and met her troubled eyes. 

"Miss Howard/' he began, slowly, "I 
have to throw myself on your mercy. There 
is no Qronto Navigation Company and no 
steamer. This is the only craft on the lake, 
and 1 am sure I am delighted to fulfil my 
obligation to the pass you hold by rowing 
you from one end of the lake to the other 
and all round it" 

/'What do you mean?" she cried, clutch- 
ing the sides of the boat, her wide eyes alert 
with alarm. 

" If you will permit me I will tell you all 
about it. I have been playing to very hard 
luck this last few years. I used to be in the 
office of old Mitch am, general manager of 
the Sand Bag Route, when my health gave 

p *^Ss 


by Google 

way and I was ordered South. I had some 
money and, foolishly enough, bought up this 
wilderness, thinking I could support myself 
by fruit culture. One year the frost smote 
me, and not only destroyed my orange trees, 
but also all chance of selling the land for 
anything like the sum I paid. I have been 
trying to get back into the railway business 
again, but the place that knew me knows 

Original from 





me no more, and old Mitcham seems to 
have let me slip entirely from his memory. 
My health is now fully re-established, and 
I yearn to get North again. A month 
or two ago a tramp happened along and 
begged my hospitality. I gave him a meal 
and he told me a story. The story set me 
thinking." Here Norton, with a vividness 
which always pertains to the relation of a 
reality, gave the tale of the tramp and set 
forth his own subsequent action in the matter 
of the passes. The fear which had undoubt- 
edly thrilled the young woman when the 
narrative began gradually faded away, and 
towards the end she sat with her elbow on 
her knee and her chin resting in her hand, a 
twinkling smile now and then illumining 
her comely face as she listened to the graphic 
story of the tramp ordering great railway 
companies to do his bidding regarding the 
private car, while the history of the Lake 
Oronto Navigation Company made her laugh 

" I think," she said, when he had con- 
cluded, " that I ought to inform the police." 

"It wouldn't do any good, I fear," said 
Norton, shaking his head. " I doubt if even 
you could make a case of false pretences out 
of it, for you see I made no request of the 
managers, and they gave me the passes of 
their own free will. Even if I used their 
favours, which I have no intention of doing, 
I question whether you could get out a 
warrant for my arrest" 

" Then you have made no recent applica- 
tion to Mr. Mitcham for your old place ? " 


"Could you get from him a letter of 
recommendation ? " 

" Oh, I have a letter of recommendation 
from him already. He gave me one when I 
left ; curt, you know, but, on the whole, very 
satisfactory— from the like of him" 

" I sympathize deeply with your case, and 
shall say nothing to the police. You have 
indeed been playing to hard luck, as you 
said, but perhaps your luck will change. My 
father manages the C.X. and G., and every- 
one admits he manages it well ; but I manage 
my father. If you will intrust me with that 
letter from Mitcham and a selection of the 
passes you received, including those from my 
father and from Mitcham, I am going North 

in a few days and will present your case at 
head-quarters, and I think you will have a 
much better berth on the C.X. and G. than 
on a line like the Sand Bag Route, which my 
father says ought to be in the hands of a 

" You are very generous and forgiving," 
said the young man, earnestly, " but I could 
not think of troubling you and, as it were, 
taking advantage of my own villainy. Some- 
how I did not seem to realize the blackness of 
my conduct until I began to talk to you. In 
my own justification I may say that my con- 
science has been troubling me all along, 
but " 

" Yes, you are very guilty," interrupted the 
girl, flippantly ; " still, as I told you, I manage 
the manager of a great railway line centring 
in Chicago, so it is not likely that I am going 
to be dictated to by the manager of a 
company in Florida which has no real exist- 
ence. Now make no more objections, but 
turn your boat and row me back to the General 
Offices of the Oronto Navigation Company.'' 

Railway people in Chicago admit that Mr. 
Willis Norton is a most capable man, but 
they say that he has also had the greatest run 
of good luck ever known in that enterprising 
city. His rise was rapid, and he is now 
assistant-general manager of the C.X. and G. 
They say that in some unaccountable manner 
he succeeded in hypnotizing the old man and 
gaining his consent to the marriage of his 
daughter, not knowing that it was the other 
way about, and that the daughter overruled 
the strong objections put forward by Mr. 
E. B. Howard. 

The Nortons have a charming winter 
residence erected on the shores of Lake 
Oronto, Florida. The cottage has been 
moved to a position partly over the waters of 
the lake, and it makes a roomy and efficient 
boat-house. Visitors wonder why a sign the 
whole length of the boat-house facing the 
lake reads : " Lake Oronto Navigation Com- 
pany/' but Mrs. Norton smiles and says she 
has promised never to divulge the secret of 
that organization, so it is generally supposed 
Norton bought out the Navigation Company 
that he might run his own speedy electric 
launch undisturbed upon the mirror-like 
surface of the lake. 

by Google 

Original from 

D. Cuming and J. A. Shepherd. 

S we can choose our own weather 

for this calendar, Be it enacted 

r^ that with the dawn of February 

ice and snow disappear. The 

world is beginning to wake up. 

The trout takes unto himself a wife early 

this month, and side by side the loving 

couple seek seclusion in 

some small stream whose 

gravel bed and swift, shallow 

waters offer conveniences for 

family affairs. With their 

tails they fan away the gravel 

to make a little trench for 

the eggs : the trout has a ' 

small family ; she lays about 

a thousand eggs for each 

pound of her own weight, 

hence the precaution she 

takes to bury them in a 

trench. Trout eggs are held 

in great esteem as food by 

various fish, including the 

trout themselves : eels, roach, 

dace, and other coarse fish 

gather round a newly-wedded 

pair and follow them, in 

anticipation of the wedding 

breakrast of eggs. The fresh- 
water shrimp eats large quan- 
tities, but as the trout eats y^ 

the shrimp in large quantities t 



this adjusts matters. The circumstance that 
angling becomes lawful while they are still 
on their honeymoon seems to afford ground 
for complaint to the mildest irannered trout. 
The salmon, whose domestic labours are how 
over in most rivers T orders her nursery on 
much the some system as the trout, but she 
has a family even smaller 
in proportion than her 
little relative, producing eight 
or nine hundred eggs for 
each pound of her own weight. 
The hen salmon exhibits sad 
want of good feeling towards 
her mate. If a poacher, as 
poachers are apt to do, 
11 snatches " with a hook 
lashed to a long stick the 
cock salmon from the spawn- 
ing-bed before the egg-trench 
has been made, she shoots 
away down stream, button- 
holes the first cock-fish she 
meets and proposes to him, 
if he does not propose at 
once to her ; all she cares 
about is her eggs and their 
safety ; a con sola ble widow. 

Frost having relaxed its 

hold on the ground, the 

mole bethinks him of his 

duty and gets to work, 

Original from 





driving new tunnels, sinking new shafts, and 
advertising the resumption of business by 
means of new mole- hills. The mole is only 
idle when the earth is too hard for his shovel 
hands to dig; he sleeps at intervals during 

dines all day and 
all night, for his 
appetite is in- 
satiable, per- 
haps the result of 
honest toil. Monk- 
ish in his seclu- 
sion, dress, in- 
dustry, and love of 
good living, there 
is a very un monas- 
tic side to his 
character : he is 
incurably quarrel- 
some and his sole 
recreation is a 

The hedgehog, 
an early riser 
among winter-long 
sleepers, is up and 
about now in 
search of the succulent slug, who also is the 
first of his kind to come abroad. The hedge- 
hog has no high-flown ideas on the subject of 
early rising ; could he establish a larder on 
the cold storage system and stock it with the 


severe weather, but a passion for labour, 
which is almost morbid, masters him the 
moment the frost goes ; he never agitates for 
an eight hours' day or goes on strike. He 
never knocks off work for meals; but he 

beetles, worms, and other unsavoury meats 
that his soul loveth, he would no doubt get 
up for a meal like the squirrel and dormouse 
and go back to bed again. He can't do 
that, so he get^ up for the sufficient reason 





under rotten wood, 
ability to roll up 
posture he presents 
a pill that medical 

that he is hungry. The wood-lice, popularly 
known as "slaters" from their colour and 
scales, are abroad once more, having left 
the damp place of their winter abiding 
One wood-louse boasts 
in a ball : in which 
such resemblance to 
science in its reckless 
experimental infancy gave him place in the 
pharmacopoeia and prescribed him for certain 
disorders. A dreadful fate for the insect ; 
but we must not expend all our sympathy on 

The pheasant and partridge celebrate the 
close of the shooting season on 2nd February, 
Henceforward till autumn their persons are 
sacred, and their whilom foe, the gamekeeper, 
is their most obedient servant The conduct 
of the partridge, who about this time has 
been known to boldly invade the streets of 
town or village, must not be attributed to 
bravado born of this stimulating sense of 
security ; it is more probable that unrequited 
love has temporarily unhinged the bird's 

The wild geese who have spent the winter 
with us now bestir themselves, choose some 
experienced old gander as leader, and turn 
their heads north— their bodies following at 
a respectful distance : geese on the wing 
always seem to be trying to win a race " by 
a neck." The grey lag, supposed to be the 
ancestor of our domestic geese, stays longest; 
some grey lags cannot tear themselves away 
from us at all and stay to nest in the far 
north of Scotland, Farmers are busy plough- 
ing now, and various gulls discover a keen 
and intelligent interest in agriculture —that 

phase of it, at 
bast, which ren- 
ders accessible 
worms and 
grubs. Follow- 
ing the plough- 
man in company 
with the rooks 
are the black- 
headed gull t so 
called because 
the summer 
hood he dons is 
chocolate and 
not black ; the 
common gull, 
and occasionally 
the herring gull. 
The common 
gull is no sailor ; 
when rough 
the first to come 

weather threatens he is 

14 Who wouldn't sell a farm and go to sea ? " 

They ask, who view the storm without alarm. 
The sentiment does not appeal 10 me, 

Who'd rather leave the sea and take a farm. 

The herring gull* commonest of our large 
gulls, enjoyed possession of four dozen dif- 
ferent classical names when Dresser wrote 



his great work on "The Birds of Europe." 
Every self-respecting ornithologist holds it a 
duty to give him a new one ; so by this time 
he should have about sixty. What would the 
Lord Chamberlain do if Mrs* Herring Gull 
appeared for presentation at a Drawing Room 
and gave all her "full name" as in duty 
bound ? The ehai1mch> who has been silent 



2T 9 


all ihe winder, begins that short, defiant cry of 
his, "Toll loll ! Pretty little dc-ah ! " as it is 
interpreted : the chaffinch's idea of music is 
elementary and his repertoire limited; but 

with ^very fellow 
of his own 
kind he meets. 
The yellow-ham- 
mer begins the 
petition for *' A 
very little bit of 
bread and no 
che - e - e - ese ! " 
which indulgence 
considers a song ; 
and the little 
blue-tit finds the 
tongue of which 
he never makes 
very aggressive 
use. The missel- 
thrush is less in 
evidence now, but 
the song-thrush, 
skylark, black- 
bird, and hedge- 
sparrow and wren 
Like lu.-art and 
practise more 
regularly ; the fact 
that earthworms appear now and other foods 
are more plentiful has much to do with the 
musical programme ; we ean J t expect hungry 
birds to waste vital energy in song, The genial 
house sparrow is chirpy; he has found the first 
crocus of the year, and, having eaten the bud, 
has done some mischief, wherefore he is 
happy- Indoors the cricket is chirruping as 
gaily as ever; neither to him nor to the cock- 


"the chaffinch's idea op music is cuementarv." 

his song answers its purpose as a challenge ; 
he is always ready for a fight at this season, 
Herein he resembles the blackbird, who 
makes it a point of honour to pick a quarrel 





roach do the seasons make any difference ; 
hot-house flowers these, who live behind the 
kitchen- range and love best the cook 
who does not rake out the fire at night. 
Wise in his generation, the cricket does not 
abuse hospitality; cheery and sociable though 
his nature be, he seldom collects about 
him his relations, friends, and acquaint- 
ances with their respective families and 
hangers-on. He keeps the cook's wel- 
come for himself. The cockroach owes his 
unpopularity to his belief in "the more the 
merrier " ; he cannot do without society, and 
he never tries. His disposition is too friendly* 
too genial. He finds a basin of beer on the 
kitchen floor, pauses on the brim to call his 
friends and neighbours, toboggans gaily down 
and drinks, not wisely but too welL 

When lights are out and maids in Ised 

The cockroach seeks good cheer. 
He steals ihe meat and trai* the bread 

And takes the proffered t#ei\ 

Oh j the cockroach is a festive soul, 

His happie-M hour's here, 
Pledging his friends in a pud ding- bowl 

Of flat but amlier beer ! 

The cricket is not a teetotaler : 
opportunity serving, he exceeds 
like his friend die cockroach* 

The pigeons in the yard are 
beginning to coo sweet somethings, 
and the fancy of the ring-dove in 
the wood lightly turns to thoughts 
of love. Also the tawny owl yu Lis 
to the tender passion : the amorous . 

owl hooting his tale of love must feel acutely 
defects of his voice, but he, at any rate, is 
not so heavily handicapped in this respect 
as his cousin, the barn owl, who can only 
screech, snore, and hiss, The tawny owls 
do not give themselves much trouble about 
house and furniture : they are fond of a 
hole in some decayed tree, but they will 
lease an old nest of rook or magpie with 
a light heart, or take an unfurnished hole 
in a ruin. Some of the crow family are 
now on matrimony intent. The raven 
lays aside his habitual solemnity of de- 
meanour and seeks to win the heart of his 
bride by uncouth gambols unbefitting his 
character and appearaiuv. The voice of the 
love-making raven is soft, almost musical ; 
he performs wild and fantastic feats of agility 

bock woejluts:, 




on the wing, even turning somersaults and 
pretending to fall on his back with folded 
wings, while she looks on, let us hope, 
not laughing at him. The raven, if left alone, 
returns to his old nest year after year, adding 
a few odds and ends and refurnishing with 
wood and hair. He rarely is left alone in 
this country. Sheep- 
stealing is still a capital 
offence when a raven is 
the culprit, and it IS 
to be feared that he 
does kill young and 
weakly lambs. The 
rooks are gathering on 
the rookery \ they don't 
mean to begin building 
just yet, but rooks are 
thieves of a sort among i 
whom there is no 
honour, and steal each 
other's sticks of furni- 
ture impartially. A 
rook cannot trust his 
own father, and would 
think his father was 
suffering from senile 
decay if the old bird 
trusted him. The jackdaws 
are beginning to hang about 
the church tower, peering 
through the belfry windows 
at their old nests ; they 
won't enter seriously upon 
the business of housekeep- 
ing for another six weeks 
at least, but where probity 
is flexible suspicion is rife. 
The herons foregather on 
ttu: heronry in the tree- tops 
and solemnly contemplate 
the flat, commodious stick- 
heaps whereon they reared 
their children or were reared 
themselves last year. Unlike 
the rooks, they neither talk 
nor quarrel. The heron 
is of pensive habit, as so 
ardent a fisherman should 
be, and he thinks long and 

The frog wakes up and comes to the 
surface to look round, solemnly enjoining 
his friends to M Work ! work ! work ! ?J with- 
out the least idea of doing a hand's turn 
himself. All he wants to do is to drink : he 
is a w soaker " in the fullest meaning of the 
word, for when dry he absorbs moisture at 
every pore j there is an air of smug content- 


ment almost seraphic about the frog's expres- 
sion as he treads water with his eyes uplifted 
and expands under the soothing influence of 
wet, His foe the viper has come out, drawn 
from his winter retreat by the warmth, to lie 
basking in the sun for an hour. The summit 
of viper ambition is to lie basking in the 
sun ; but this accessible 
ambition is not peculiar 
to vipers, as the aspect 
of the London parks 
on any fine day will 
convince you. 

The cookery - book 
says the flounder is 
" now at its best/' 
which is not saying 
much. The flounder 
was soured in infancy. 
Child of nearly the 
most improvident 
parents that swim (they 
think nothing in 
flounder circles of 
launching a family of 
a million or a million 
and a half of helpless 
babies on a cold, wet 
world) t the flounder^ like 
other flat fish, was born 
upright as a John Dory, 
with an eye on each side 
of his head. When about 
a week old he became 
conscious that he was grow- 
ing top-heavy and leaning 
more and more to one side. 
Then he got tired of seeing 
nothing but sand with one 
eye and tried to peer round 
his nose. Obliging Nature 
helped him to rectify the 
mistake she had made, and 
gradually the eye came 
round - sometimes it comes 
right through the soft cartil- 
ages of the head — and 
settled down beside its 
fellow. And then the young 
flounder resigned himself to 
his fate* 

What must l he flounder feel 
Launched on an even keel, 
By lurn of Nature's wheel 
Degraded to a flat-fish ? 

Is this the reason why 
He twists his mouth awry, 
As if about to cry ? 
Is thiii l\u bin- of \hat fish? 




ing: he wears what answer for ears on his 
forelegs. A few butterflies, the brimstone 
and small tortoiseshell conspicuously^ who 
have passed the winter in butterfly form, 
now come out and flutter round. The attire 
of these survivals of last summer is often 
rather ragged and unkempt ; their wings 
look as if the insects had folded them .up 
hurriedly and carelessly when they were going 
to bed ; or as if they had slept in them. 

The house-fly crawls out of his winter 
hiding-place and goes to the window ; he 
feels grimy and dull, but he washes his 
face and hands vigorously, shampoos his 
bald head as if parting his hair at the 
back, and with a brave show of jollity 

sucked IN INFANCY. 

The startled expression in the eye of the 
cod suggests that the fish suffers life-long 
anxiety concerning the fate of her children ; 
but this theory won't hold water, because, 
although a 30IU cod lays seven million eg2fs 
or more, she divests herself of all parental 
responsibility as soon as she has done it 
The ugly, big-headed babies which result 
from such eggs as other fish and the gulls 
don't eat are left to make their own way 
in the world. 

The field -cricket 
opens his hole for the 
summer and sits at the 
door ready to dart in 
if anyone passes, as if 
he knew that the police 
were always after him. 
He lives his own retired 
life solacing the passing 
hour with the music 
produced by rubbing 
the base ot one scale- 
like fore -wing against 
the other, His defec- 
tive ear for music may 
he due to the curious 
site Nature has selected 
for his organs of hear- PULLlKG „ 


resumes his life long task of thumping his 
head on the glass, He doesn't keep it up 
long at first ; perhaps it makes his head ache. 
Flies and other small msects, by the way, 
consider that there is no bedroom to 
equal the interior of a straw for economy 
and comfort* Eli- 
gible straws in stack 
or thatch are in great 
demand for winter quar- 
ters ; the drawback is 
that the tits pull out the 
straws and catch the fly 
before he can jump out 
of bed. All these early 
insects receive cordial 
welcome from the birds, 
The early Iamb has 
entered upon a career 
which for the first few 
hours consists of baa- 
ing and blunders. 
The first thing he does 
is to lose his mother; 
and forthwith, skipping 





like a large geometer, he starts for 

whatever object catches his eye. 

11 O, mother mine ! you're found at last 

Wherever have you been?" 
The sheep-dog coldly wards him off : - *I 

don't know what you mean. 1 ' 

" Then you are she !" The eager lamb 

his woully carcass shoots 
AgainsL the shepherd's legs, to learn ewes 

don't wear hob -nail boots. 

Some passing stranger next he tries, then 

tree-Mump, hush, or took \ 
And I as 1, by happy accident, he stumbles 

on the flock. 

** Bless me ! the world is full of ma's as 

far as I can see. 
Well, well, I'm not particular, the first 

will do for ine." 

While foisting himself on every ewe in the 
field in turn, his anxious mother catches sight 
of him and comes up at a canter, baa-ing 
affectionate reproaches and declaring she will 
never, never let him out of her sight again. 

In the poultry-yard the turkey -cock, full of 
self-importance* is gobbling and 
strutting with his wing feathers 
stiffly brushing the ground and 
his tail spread fan -wise, Mr. 
must have 
founded his idea 
of Deportment 
(with a capital 
D) on the tur- 
key-cock. When 
a pretty young 
turkey- hen 
crosses his path 
his attitude 
st i ffe ns still 
more, but he 
shakes aside 
the wattle that 
droops over his 
beak to smile at 
her. The fowls 
are busy ; they 
have begun to 


lay, and convinced as they are that " All life 
comes from the (hen's) egg," they give them- 
selves airs which are rather discounted by the 
extraordinary excitement into which the sight 
of a newly-laid egg throws the responsible 
hen. She stalks fussily out of the fowl-house 
quivering with self-congratula- 
tion. u Cock, cock, cock ! I've 
laid an egg I An Eeg-g ! An 
Eeeg-g ! Come and look ; 
come and look, look, 
loo-ook ! " And the 
cock, scratching on 
the dust-heap, 
chuckles, ** You do tit 
say so; never heard 
of such a thing ! " 
without turning his 
head. The cock treats 
his wives with lofty 
contempt except 
when one needs 
punishment, then he 
throw's dignity, re- 
straint, and reserve 
to the winds and 
hunts her round the 
yard, calling her all 
the names in chicken 

j ^m 

*' t>HHi>kTMfKT ! ' 

by Google 

Original from 

A Story for Children, By R. K Vern^de. 

T is related in the Fairy 
Chronicles that once upon a 
time Moral i a was the topsy- 
turviest country in the world. 
Tigs flew about there and 
fishes were to be seen walking 
on land, and if you decided that the tree in 
your garden was a pear tree it was pretty 
certain to grow strawberries in the winter and 
apples in the spring. That kind of thing, of 
course, had happened before in other king- 
doms, but in Moralia it went to extremes. 



for instance. The trouble was 

not to drive them to market, but to get them 
to settle down when they had arrived there. 
Often, when a farmer thought he had his 
pigs fixed safely in the pig-market and was 
bargaining with a trader for a fair price, 
whir-r-r — there would be a flutter of wings, 
and off the pigs would sail to the highest 
palm tree, leaving him agape ! 

" What can you expect in Moialia?" the 
intending purchaser would say, and would 
betake himself to sonic more certain market 

Again, travellers would often find the 
highways blocked by a shoal of herrings that 
had strolled ashore, and everyone would have 
to turn to and salt them where they stood, 
and in the meantime people could only get 
about by way of the canals, unless those 
were also blocked by cats and horses swim- 
ming for their pleasure. 

It was annoying, too, to order a pound of 
greengages and find when you opened the 
bag that they had turned into mangoes or 
some sort of fruit that you didn*t like nearly 
so much ; or to purchase periwinkles and 
discover that they were really only pins. You 
cannot eat pins, at leasts very few people can, 
and you cannot fasten dresses with peri- 
winkles; and, naturally enough, trade soon fell 
away from Moral ia. For nobody ever knew 
what was going to be what. At school the 
children used to write things with their india- 
rubber and erase them with their pencils. 
The schoolmaster used to say that he wouldn't 
have his pupils writing copper-plate. And 
certainly their copybooks did not resemble it 




Altogether, matters in Moralia were in a 
very bad way. People in other countries 
shook their heads over it and said that it 
couldn't go on like that They said that if 
that was Moralia's boasted civilization they 
didn't think much of it. All the same, it did 
goon until what I have to telLhad happened. 
And the cause of the topsy - turviness, as 
very few people knew, was that the King of 
Moralia had offended a Wizard. 

It happened in this way. The King, who 
was the most prim and proper gentleman in 
the world, a little too proper and prim, per- 
haps, was invited to attend a banquet the 
Wizard was giving. He didn't like to refuse, 
because that sort of invitation is equivalent to 
a command. But at the same time he dis- 
approved of the whole thing. He disliked 
the Wizard and he hated anything magical — 
which is a foolish thing to do. As a result, 
he wore a very glum face throughout. When 
he opened his mouth at all it was to criticise 
the dresses and the behaviour of the fairies 
present or to speak sharply to the invisible 
hands that waited on him. Also, at the end 
of the feast, when the gnomes and trolls 
began to exchange cigars, and the Wizard 
himself, a little excited with nectar, perhaps, 
began to talk what seemed nonsense, the 
King could contain himself no longer. 

" I can't agree with you," he exclaimed, at 

"What about?" the Wizard inquired, 
frowning. He had noticed the King's 
behaviour already, and was by no means 

" That two and two make five," said the 

" Ah, but you don't make allowances," 
began the Wizard, " for what we " 

" They only make four," said the King, 

Now, if there is one thing that Wizards 
dislike more than being contradicted, it is 
being interrupted, and this one, though 
courteous for a Wizard, glowered. 

" It seems to me," he said, very slowly and 
distinctly, " that you don't make allowances 
for what we call magic." 

" No, I don't," snapped the King. 

"Why not?" 

" Because I think it's grossly exaggerated," 
said the King. 


There was a dead pause as the Wizard 
spoke, and the King became aware that the 
eyes of all present were fixed upon him. 
There were green eyes, and red eyes, and 
white eyes, some fiery and some dull, but 

Vol. xxiii. — 29. 

they all stared at him until he felt dizzy. He 
almost expected to be turned into a stone or 
a stock-pot or a stork. But as a matter of 
fact nothing, as it seemed, happened at all. 
Only, when the King arrived back in Moralia, 
having slept all night on the road, the magic 
had taken effect and Moralia was topsy- 

The King's feelings may be imagined. He 
had been so orderly, and now everything was 
so contrary. He tried to wring his hands, 
but found himself walking on them instead, 
and he had to be content with wringing his 
legs. Anyone who has tried the process 
knows that it makes things appear even more 
curious than they are. For a moment the 
King fancied that it was only he that was 
bewitched, but he was mistaken. The Lord 
Chamberlain came in, and he was holding 
one arm to his side like a handle and the 
other curved outward like a spout. 

" Is — is anything the matter with you, 
sire?" he asked, observing his Royal master 
in so unusual and undignified an attitude as 
is involved in trying to wring one's legs. 

" No," said the King, sharply, " why should 
there be ? " 

" I don't know," said the Chamberlain, 
hurriedly. "But I fancied that you were 

ups " 

, " What's the matter with you, though ? " 
cried the King. 

"Nothing," said the Chamberlain, who 
still held his left hand in the shape of a 
spout. "Nothing — nothing at all — but — er 
— it's a curious thing — very. I feel as if I 
were a tea-pot." 

, " A tea - pot ? " repeated the King. He 
was about to say that, in that case, the 
Chamberlain had better resign his office, but, 
instead of doing so, he found himself crying 
out: — 

" Hurrah ! I'm a tea-pot too. Let's all 
be tea-pots ! " 

Tea-pots the King and all his Court were 
for the rest of the day, in so far as curving 
their arms and wearing a strainer on their 
left hands could make them so. Next day 
the King suggested in a shamefaced way 
that they should all fly kites. And so they 
did, or rather the kites flew them. For the 
kites ran along the ground, while the King 
and all his Ministers performed the most 
curious gyrations in the air at the end of 
pieces of string, with long tails fastened on 
to them. Next day they fancied they were 
Polar bears, and insisted on climbing up 
•poles and having buns thrown to them. 

And so matters went from bad to worse. 




The strange thing was that nobody laughed 
at them, for everyone in Mora Ifa was afflicted 
with some absurd fancy or other, and though 
all felt ashamed and i!J at ease there was no 
one who could see precisely what was ludi- 
crous and extravagant. 

For the King had brought up his people to 
be very stiff and to disbelieve in magic, and 
though they were now bewitched they were 
all as solemn as ever. And at the end of 
sixteen yearsy when the King's daughter, the 
Princess Marianna, came of an age to be 
married, she was the most eccentric and most 
solemn person in the Iringdom. It was 
natural enough that this should be sa The 
Queen-Mother had died when the Princess 
was but an infant, and Marianna had done 
as she pleased in the enchanted country all 
her days. Now she was the most beautiful 
Princess that has probably ever existed. Her 
hair was all gold and came below her knees, 
and her eyes were like violets, and she was 
lithe as a panther. The fame of her great 
beauty had induced many Kings and Princes 
to journey even to Moralia, which, for several 
reasons, had become one of the most perilous 
as well as one of the most trying places in the 
world to travel through. One reason was 
that the inhabitants would sit on the tree-tops- 
and throw cocoa-nuts down on anyone pass- 
ing ; another, that the sign-posts were all 
put wrong, so that one wandered round and 
round as if in a maze, and as often as not got 
into some morass or fell into some hole that 
had been dug for an afternoon's amusement. 
But the chief reason was that the King had 
put at the head of affairs the most monstrous 
creature — a Sea Prince — who had come up 
out of the sea to make mischief in Moralia. 
The poor King thought he must be a genius 
because he was so ugly. He resembled a 
cod-fish with whiskers, and he walked some- 
times on his fins and sometimes on his tail. 
And as he had determined to wed the 
Princess Marianna himself, despite his grue- 
some ugliness, he naturally encouraged her 
in all her eccentricities and cast every possible 
obstacle in the way of the Kings and Princes 
who came to woo her. Many of these had 
perished already, and it seemed likely on the 
day of Marianna's coming of age that no 
more would venture after her. Nor could 
her wedding be much longer delayed, since 
the King was getting old and must have 
some successor. 

The cod-fish sat in the Cabinet that day 
and chuckled and rubbed his fins. 

" I shall wed Marianna to-morrow/ r he 
gurgled to himself. And he opened and 

shut his great slit of a mouth in a way that 
one might suppose wookJ have made even the 
most daft Princess shudder, if she couki have 
seen it. But, as a matter of fact, Marianna 
was up and away in the woods, swinging in 
the high boughs of an acacia. She had not 
permitted any of her maidens to do anything 
for her. She would not have her hat on 
nor her shoes, and only at the last moment, 
in a spirit of fancifulnessj she had caught up 
her opal slippers and taken them with her. 
The inhabitants of Moralia had given up the 
pastime of throwing cocoa-nuts from the 
trees at wayfarers* for, truth to tell, no way- 
farers came along now. But Marianna had 
taken the radiant slippers because they were 
hard and easy to throw, and if anyone 
happened to pass by she should have some- 
thing to hurl Now, she was swinging in the 
acacia tree. Blossoms of the white, sweet 
flower dropped in showers about her, as the 
boughs swayed to and froy and the sunlight 
caught in her hair. And she never gave a 
thought to anything or anybody, least of all 
to the Prince who at that moment was 
coming on horseback through the forest 
towards the acacia tree. 

Nor, indeed, did Prince Rideo, for that 
was the young man's name, give very much 
thought to the Princess Marianna. He bad 
heard vaguely of her beauty and of the topsy- 
turvy country where she lived. Being young 
and adventurous, and rashly fond of comedy, 
he had set out to see Moralia. That it was 
so perilous only added to the charm of 
journeying in it ; and as for the Princess — 
if she were so lovely as was reported, why, 
he would see her at least. He might fall in 
love with her, perhaps, but he doubted it. 

So he rode on, laughing to himself. He 
had encountered many strange things already, 
the finger-posts that led all wrong, and some 
winged pigs that started away like a covey of 
partridges, and lizards that lay in the shade 
to bask, and flies catching spiders in their 
webs, and sheep driving a ffock of shepherds 
to their folds. Prince Rideo was greatly 
amused, though he had escaped with diffi- 
culty out of a morass and had been com- 
pelled to cut to pieces with his sword a herd 
of geese that attacked him. But he was 
more greatly astonished when he rode under 
the acacia tree and an opal slipper, very hard 
and pointed, hit him on the chest. He 
caught it before it fell to the ground, and 
then looked up into the tree. 

" Who's there?" he demanded. 

Marianna peeped out from among the 
blossoms, and he thought he had never seen 




anyone so beautiful She was sitting on a 
bough, very fearless, and cried out : — 

" Give me back my slipper ! " 

" Did you drop it ? " asked the Prince, 

Maria nna opened her eyes wide to see a 
man smile. She had never seen anyone in 
Moralia smile before, for their lack of humour 
was what made the enchantment work so 

"No ; I threw it," she said. 

"Then I shaVt give it to you again," 
said the Prince, putting it in his pocket 

"Why not?" asked Marianne 

4t Vou might throw it again." 

" I do as I please," said Maria nna, 
haughtily. "Give it me back at once 
or I shall throw the other slipper** 1 

As the Prince only laughed she 
threw the other, 

"Now I have both," he said, 
44 And if you are the Princess 

"But I am to be wedded to-morrow," she 
said, seriously, " so that I must have my 

" To whom ? " asked Rideo, eagerly, 
"To the Fish Prince/* she said. "He is 

H wy;, ; 



Marianna, I will only give them back to you 
on your wedding day." 

He was so strange and unusual a person 
to see in that topsy-turvy country that the 
Princess, in spite of her anger, could not 
resist talking to him a little. She swung to 
a lower bough, and her hair was all about 
her like a cloth of gold. 

my father's councillor, and to-day my father 
is building the church, so that it may be 
ready for to-morrow." 

Prince Rideo was so taken aback by this 
news that he hardly knew what to do. For 
he had fallen in love with her on the spot, 
and to think that Marianna should wed a 
Fish Prince disgusted him. 

" Do you love him ? " he asked her. 

" Love ? " Marian na repeated the word, 
11 1 don't know," she said, M I never thought 
of it," 

"Then you shall not wed him," said the 
Prince, decidedly. 

He was laughing again now, for he was 
light-hearted and snw no difficulties in the 

" I shall ride straight to the King, your 
father," he said, "and tell him that I love 

"Oh," said Marianna, thoughtfully. 

That was all she said, for she did not 
understand what he meant. Everything was 
so topsy-turvy in Moralia that love was as 

unc( Wfft$lPf (S^ttllG.^F she did not 



ask for the Opal slippers again, and the Prince 
rode on with them in his pocket to the 
Court of the King, He rode so fast that he 
came to the end of the woods in no time, 
and, in the open land beyond^ a curious 
sight met his eyes. Not only the capital 
city of Moralia stood there, and the great 
gates of entrance, and the palace, a 
stately mass of domes and minarets, hut 
also the beginning of a building, such as 
Prince Rideo thought he had never seen 
before. It resembled more than anything 
the steeple of a 
church stuck the 
wrong way up in 
the ground, and 
all about it was a 
great concourse of 
people, working 
at it in a fashion 
quite their own. 
Some men stood 
with their tools 
balanced on their 
noses, one trying 
in this attitude to 
plane a log of 
wood, a second 
to hammer at a 
nail that a third 
was delicately 
balancing ; others 
stood on their 
heads, mixing 
hods of mortar or 
holding buckets 
full of red - hot 
coals, such as 
workmen use, to 
the sides of bel- 
lows, as if the' 
buckets could 
make a draught 
and the bellows 
a fire. Nobody 
paid any attention 
to Prince Rideo, 
until he asked : — 

u Which is the 

riien several pointed to an elderly man, 
with a reddish-grey beard and thin legs, who 
was running aimlessly about balancing a 
ladder on his head. A crown, fastened to 
his waist by a cord, dangled at his heels. He 
stopped as Prince Rideo went up to him* 

* L What do you want ? '' he cried. 

" The hand of your daughter, 53 said the 

"Ah!" said the King, and he looked 
worried. **Vm sorry you can't stop now." 

^ But I can," the Prince objected. 
'**Ah — well — I can't, fJ said the King. 
u You see, I'm trying to get this ladder up/' 

"What for?" ' 

The King, who had started off, paused a 
moment at this question and put his hand to 
his head. 

u Why, of course," he said, at last ; ** it's the 
church, you see, I'm building a church for 
my daughter to be married in to-morrow. 


Most churches 
are built on a 
wrong principle 

with ihrir stee- 
ples at the top. 
This one's going 
to have it at the 
bottom. It's quick work —quick work.' 1 

And he began trotting round the steeple 
again, balancing the ladder and dragging the 
crown in the same absurd manner. When 
he completed the circuit, and saw the Prince 
still standing there, he cried out again : — 
•* What do you want ? " 

"The hand of ycur daughter. ' 
^_f r i L|i i _rdi tk tt 

jailt^lllCl, ?hMU Lilt. | tUI IUM\J * "I y VI L r | I fc ■ L±i; I JLL I . 

" D fomk sngcHtik ,he King 



" She's going to be married to the Fish 
Prince^ who is ray Prime Minister, to-morrow. 
It's a very suitable match. I'm sorry you 
can't stay for the wedding. But the fact is 
there isn't a room in the palace to offer you. 
They're full up — full up." 

"Full of what? "asked Prince Rideo, who 
knew that no strangers had come to Moralia 
for a long time. 

" Full of water," the King explained. 
" It's a scheme I've got for breeding canaries 
under water. Quite new — quite new." 

" Indeed ! " said the Prince, politely. But 
the King was running round the steeple 
again, for the ladder would not remain 
balanced if he stopped for any length of time. 
So Prince Rideo rode on, hardly knowing 
whether to laugh or to cry. Coming to the 
palace, he inquired of the janitor for the 
Fish Prince. 

" He is in the cabinet," said the janitor. 

So the Prince rode on without dismounting 
till he came to the cabinet, and he beat on 
the door of it with the handle of his sword. 
The Fish Prince rose in great fear and came 
sidling to the door on his tail, for usually no 
one dared to disturb him. When he saw the 
Prince he blinked his lidless eyes and 
snapped his mouth up and down. " What 
do you want ? " he asked, though he knew 
quite well what the Prince wanted. 

"The hand of the Princess Marianna." 

u That is impossible, " gurgled the Fish 
Prince. " I am going to wed her to-morrow.* 

" You ! n Prince Rideo looked at him 
with such scorn that the Fish Prince shook 
with shame, like a jelly-fish. 

u The King has promised her to me," he 
choked out. 

" Well," said Prince Rideo, " I will promise 
you something also. And that is, if you are 
not gone to the lowest ooze of the sea by 
to-morrow when I return, I will kill you with 
ray own sword." 

Then he turned his horse's head and rode 
away into the country. How was he to keep 
his promise ? Moralia was in so topsy-turvy 
a state that the Fish Prince could do as 
he pleased in it and no one detected his 
hideousness. Prince Rideo ground his teeth 
to think of it, and his horse took the first 
road that happened and carried him into a 
woodless country of rock and sand. Quite 
suddenly the vision of the foolish King, 
balancing the ladder on his head, came to 
Prince Rideo's mind and, despite his dis- 
appointment, be laughed aloud. 

" Did you laugh ? " An old, old man came 
out from behind a rock and put the question. 

Prince Rideo replied courteously that he 

"Who could help it ? " he added. 

"And yet," said the old man, "you are 
the first who has laughed in Moralia for 
many years. Lack-a-day ! " 

He looked so miserable that the Prince 
almost laughed again, and perhaps it was as 
well that he did not quite laugh. For the 
old man was, in reality, the Wizard who had 
cast the spell in Moralia ; and the Fish 
Prince, who had taken such advantage of it, 
was his deadliest foe. But even wizards 
cannot always undo their mischief when they 
will. And it had been ordained by the 
fairies that only when a man who could 
laugh came to Moralia and brought to it a 
phial of the water from the fountain that is 
in the middle of the sea could the land 
regain its former state. So the Wizard was 
naturally very pleased to bear the Prince 
laugh, and explained why. 

" Will you fill the phial from the fountain ? " 
be asked. 

The Prince turned his horse's head. 

" I will go at once,* be said. 

44 Ah," said the Wizard, smiling, " you are 
bold, Sir Prince. Bat remember one thing. 
The Fish Prince is your foe and has endless 
power over the sea. He will cast every 
obstacle in your way n 

u Give me the phial!" said the Prince, 

u Here it is," said the Wizard. " And 
with your permission I will shoe your horse's 
feet, that they may not slip in the waves." 

" Make haste, then," said Prince Rideo. 
u For by to-morrow I must be back to give 
Marianna her opal slippers." 

The Wizard shod the horse swiftly with 
enchanted shoes, and it was well that he did 
so, for when Prince Rideo came to the sea- 
shore it seemed that he could go no farther, 
for the deep lay all around to the horizon, 
and there was no boat at hand or any wood 
with which to build a raft. But the horse 
galloped, and the Prince perceived that he 
was on a narrow causeway of rocks that ran 
out seaward just under the water's surface. 
It was more slippery than ice, but the horse 
sped on, until land became dim and in- 
distinct behind him and then faded away. 

u This is easier than I imagined," said 
Prince Rideo. 

Hardly had he spoken when the sea became 
black with thousands of monstrous crabs, as 
big as men. They had claws like pincers 
and their beadv eyes glared venomously. 

'"* ^M^oftMM* his sword 



bravely enough as they scuttled up the 
causeway ; but the steel rang vainly on their 
backs, and the Prince would have been 
wrenched down and devoured had not the 
horse galloped like lightning along the rocks 
so that the crabs could 
not keep pace with him* 

" The Fish Prince can 
do nothing/' said Prince 
Rideo, exhila- 
rated with the 

As he uttered 
this there arose 
a most rich 

swept hundreds of feet over the causeway, 
and the foam seemed to lash the very sky. 
But the horse galloped on f and Prince Rideo 
clang to the saddle manfully, though he was 
almost suffocated with surge* Sea-snakes 


and entrancing music to the left and to the 
right of him, and the Prince looking out in 
the sunset saw far off in the sea the most 
beautiful maidens singing to the melody of 
golden harps. They and their songs were 
so beautiful that the Prince pulled at the 
. reins and would have ridden off the cause- 
way to greet them ; but the horse galloped 
on, on, on. And though the Prince was 
angry at first he saw later that there was 
good reason for it. For these were the sirens 
who wait for men in the sea to drag them 
down ; and, as the sun sank on them, he saw 
that the maidens had sharks* tails and were 
a part of the Sea Prince's conspiracy. 

" I had best be careful, 11 he said. 

And at the words the sun went down in 
the sea and a great storm rose. Billows 

swam alongside 
in that tempest* 
spitting, and 
squids, like 
branching trees, 
reached at him with their 
suckers, :md ginnt rocks 
moved to and fro trying 
to clap him between 
them. But Prince Rideo 
spurred forward. And 
then quite suddenly the storm ceased, and 
the darkness was drawn apart like a curtain 
and the full moon came out And there, 
just ahead of him, a fountain spirted out of 
the middle of the sea. 

You may be sure that Prince Rideo filled 
his phial with no loss of time and set out on 
the return speedily. No peril threatened 
him now, but he had come farther than he 
supposed, and dawn broke before he had got 
to land and arrived in sight of the palace 
once more* 

A great procession was moving towards 
the steeple, which still remained unfinished. 
The crowd of people was in every conceivable 
attitude except that of ordinary mortals 
walking on their two feet t and every- 
one was doijiE spnieth ing intensely absurd 





the solemnest manner, 
the procession the 


At the head 
was walk- 
ing on one leg with his crown round one 
knee, with the Archbishop beside him trying 
to roll his mitre like a hoop. Behind them 
walked the Princess Marian na, bare- foot, 
leaning on the fin of the Fish Prince* She 
looked so lovely that Prince Rideos wrarh 
knew no hounds, and he thundered up with 
his drawn sword and broke the phial violently 
in the fish's face* 

The effect was instantaneous. Everyone 
came to their feel, stared, and burst out into 
laughter. The Archbishop ceased /oiling his 
mitre, and the King slipped his crown on to 
his head. As for the Princess, she shrank 
back and looked with disgust on the Fish 

" Who \& this monster > " she cried, and 
shut her eyes- In that moment, while the 
creature still Leared and snapped, Prince 
Rideo ran 
him through 
with his 
sword, as 
he had pro- 
mised. All 
the crowd 
cheered and 
But Prince 
Rideo held 
up his hand 
for silence, 

" Moralia 
has been 
bewitched/ 7 
he said t 
" for many 
years* but 
to - day the 
water of the 

Fountain of Laughter has broken the 
spell, as you all see- And now Moralia 
has become itself again 

r ihen he turned to Mcirtanna. 

" Will you wed me now ? " he 

She smiled and blushed and lookod 
more beautiful than ever. 

ta I have no shoes to go to church 
in>" she said. 

Prince Rideo drew out the opal slippers 
from his pocket 

41 These will fit," he said, and she put oat 
her foot for him to try them on. 

" But— they are my own ! " she exclaimed ; 
and then it came back to her how the Prince 
had ridden under the acacia tree and all that 
had happened after, and she smiled and 
blushed again. 

" Now you must marry me," said Prince 

4 ' 1 will," said Marian na, and she did. For 
tbey went straight to one of the proper 
churches, with its steeple the right side up* 
and the Archbishop superintended the cere- 
mony. Then the people asked the Prince to 
be King, and the old King asked him too. 


So he was given the crown and ruled wisely 
and well. And no country in all the world 
was less topsy-turvy than Moralia^ and 
probably no country ever will be. 

by Google 

Original from 

An Eighteen-mile Switchback, 

By Reginald H. Cocks. 

rattle down a mountain side 
continuously for nine miles, at 
a speed attaining sixty miles 
on hour, is probably one of 
the most exhilarating sensa- 
tions that it is possible to 

experience, and one that few people have 

ever heard of. 

Amongst examples of the railroad's slender 

and sinuous tentacles which continue to 

spread throughout the world, none displays 

more daring originality in construction than 

the switchback, or gravity railroad, at Mauch 

Chunk, U.S.A. 

The whole idea can be traced back to a 

man stumbling over "something black" on 

a certain dark night 

in the year 1791. 

The man was a 

hunter, Philip Ginter 

by name. The cause 

of the stumble proved 

to be a large lump 

of coal, and this is 

how anthracite coal 

was first discovered. 

Directly this wealthy 

coal district was struck 

there naturally sprang 

up difficulties with 

regard to transporta- 
tion at so great an 

altitude, for, be it re- 
membered, the dis- 
covery was made in 

wild and mountainous 


The following year 

the Lehigh Coal Mine 

Company was formed, 

but the mines were 

not worked to any 

extent until 1812, 

when certain improve- 
ments were made for 

bringing coal to 

market by navigation. 

In 1818 a road was 

cut from the river 

to the mines to facili- 
tate transportation, 

and this, nine miles 

in length, constitutes 

the grading of the 

present railway* A 

pair of horses would 

bring down from four to six tons in two 
waggons ; but it was found next to impos- 
sible to keep the roads in good order, so in 
the natural course of events a railroad was 
laid down on the track in 1827* The whole 
transportation was worked by gravity, the 
empty ears being returned to the mines by 
mules, the latter riding down with the coal T 
but in their own " saloons/' 

The mules travelled about forty miles a 
day, and so enamoured of the trip did I hey 
become that not one could be persuaded to 
walk downhill when, on one occasion, the 
train was sent up without the mule-ear* In 
fact, the drivers had to go down to the 
bottom and push up the waggon themselves 

in order to satisfy the 
mules and afford these 
animals the oppor- 
tunity once again of 
having a free ride 
down and enjoying 
the natural scenery 
which it is said they 
love to dwell upon. 

With the increase 
of business a return 
track was added in 
1844, and the rail- 
road then stretched 
over Mount Pisgah, 
along its side to Jeffer- 
son Plane, again to 
the summit (Sharp 
Mountain), and down 
the ridge to the 
mines at Summit 
Hill, where it joins 
the old ■ mule - track, 
and thence back to 
the river Thus the 
discovery of the black 
diamond opened up 
" modern civilisa- 
tion,*' and the Switch- 
back Railway, as the 
old coal-track is now 
styled, is exclusively 
used for pleasure, 
being operated only 
from the middle of 
May to the rst of 

The starting-point 

of this gravity rail- 

'^ijhd may be best 



2 33 

*■■■*.. * 



[ FAoio. 

reached by electric-car from Mauch Chunk, 
about five hours' rail from New York, 
and, embarking at the station, which is 
situated on the brow of a hill, we first 
experience the fact that a switchback can 
be made a genuine means of locomotion. 
The single car in which we commence our 
lightning trip differs but little from the 
ordinary cable -car in America, except that 
the brakesman j who, by the way, has sole 
control of the running, sits inside the car and 
in the front of ir. The signal being given, 
the brakes are released and the car runs by 
gravity to the foot of Mount Pisgah Plane, At 
this juncture we face what at first sight appears 
to be the perpendicular side of a mountain, 
with four shimmering threads of steel con- 
necting foot and summit in an undeviating 
line, A momentary halt is made and, the 
engineer at the top of the mountain having 
been apprised of our progress, a safety or 

" Barney " car is slowly drawn up from a pit 
under the track at our rear and, pushing us 
from behind, we start off to climb the 
mountain-side. The gradient the whole way 
up is one foot in three, and when we reach 
the summit of Mount Pisgah we are no less 
than 900ft. above our starting - point and 
1, 500ft, above tide -water* There are two 
tracks, and upon each runs a safety-car, to 
which is attached two steel bands, each 
T% in. wide, These bands are fastened to 
iron drums, 28ft. in diameter, suuated in the 
engine house at the top of the plane, the 
motive power being two stationary engines, 
each developing 120 horse-power. 

The ascent just made looks perilous enough 
to unstring the nerves of the most venture- 
some, but it is reassuring to know that in all 
the years that this enterprise has been in 
operation not a single passenger has met 
with any accident. Every possible precau- 

Vol, mHL— 30- 




/■".1..VJ ff] 

i. ; i . C V L ; L ■ I ■ MOi: NT J K F F E J*5i - 


tiou is taken. The safety-car which hauls up 
tlit one in which we travel has an iron arm 
which extends from the sick over a ratchet- 
rail between the two tracks : should the steel 
hands break, or even the machinery fail, the 
slightest backward movement causes the arm 
to drop into the notches of the ratchet-rail, 
holding the car stationary. 

The panorama opening up as we make the 
ascent is one of appalling grandeur. Moun- 
tain-tops which, but a few moments ago, 
towered above us now become insignificant, 
and the vastness of the scene as viewed from 
the summit is awe-inspiring. Tier upon tier 
of long blue ridges loom, as far as the eye 
can see, and below us, spread out like a vast 
flower-bed, valleys, 
ravines, villages, 
and mining settle- 
ments lie scattered 
in strange con- 
fusion, Mount 
Pisgah Plane, up 
which we have now 
come, is 2,1,2 2ft. in 
length, and we pro- 
ceed along through 
the engine-house, 
where the safety- 
car is detached, 
and slowly on over 
a trestle spanning a 
ravine, where n gain 
a magnificent 
bird's-eye view is 
obtained. We are 
now* running by 
force of gravitation 
only, and two miles 
from Mount Pisgah 
pass the old tunnel 

and hamlet of Hackelbernie* The fall of the 
grade to the next plane is about 47 ^jft. to 
the mile, and we have left Mount Pisgah 
6J^ miles away. The motion of the car is so 
easy that you do not realize the velocity at 
which you are travelling, nor have you time 
to absorb the rugged, broken grandeur through 
which you are passing at locomotive speed- 

Four miles farther we come to Blooming- 
dale Valley and the plane of Mount Jefferson, 
Here a brief pause is made, and, as was the 
case at Mount Pisgah, a safety-car is hitched 
on behind us and xve are slowly hauled up a 
distance of 2,070ft., the earth appearing to 
recede from us. After reaching the summit, 
which is i,66ofL above sea -level, we gain 








momentum (the safety-car having been un- 
hitched) and rush along by gravity for 
another mile and a dip of 45ft. Here we 
arrive at Summit Hill, an interesting mining 
village with a population of 3,000. At this 
place you will find the famous burning 
mines, which have been on fire since J 858. 

The last lap of our sensational journey 
now remains to be accomplished, and it is 
without a doubt the most thrilling of any. 
Our road lies along down the old mule-track, 
nine miles' continuous descent, with a grade 
of 96ft* to the mile. The brakes are grad- 
ually released at Summit Hill and we at once 

The pace at length perceptibly slackens and 
the car is gradually brought to a standstill at 
Mauch Chunk, at the very same platform 
whence we set ouL 

The entire journey has taken us just two 
hours to accomplish, and, although the 
distance covered has not exceeded eighteen 
miles, it must be remembered that quite 
twenty minutes were occupied at Summit 
Hill where we halted, and yet another thirty 
minutes must be deducted for the climb of 
2,070ft* up Mount Jefferson Plane; these, 
together with one or two other allowances, 
will materially improve the times of running 



I I'lutto. 

gain momentum, down, down, descending in 
serpentine zig-zags through shaded woods, 
around the sharpest of curves, along the edge 
of precipices, on and on, our speed increas- 
ing at every revolution of the wheels. 

The kaleidoscopic glimpses of scenery 
which the passenger may be able to snatch 
here and there serve to keep him wrapt in 
excitement and almost callous as to the 
manner in which the car will swing round the 
next sharp bend, for it is during this last lap 
that we attain the speed of sixty miles an 
hour, the cars not being heavy enough to 
warrant faster running with assurance of safety. 



if compared from point to (joint. The cost of 
this circuitous journey is about three shillings, 
this including the ride up in the electric-car 
to the starting terminus at Mauch Chunk. 

The idea of utilizing hilly country as a 
means to locomotion by aid of gravity 
suggests itself as being both cheaper to con- 
struct, and also to maintain, than any other 
form of railway, where tunnelling and other 
costly operations are necessary. 

In fact, a genuine switchback ride, such as 
the one described, claims first place for utility 
and pleasure (not excluding I he aerial or wire 
railways) of any kind of locomotion. 
Original from 



[We skail ht glad to recehw Contributions to this section \ and to pay for such as art accepted.] 


"This ph^to* may 
prove acceptable for 
inclusion among your 
* Curiosities. s The 
three gunners shown 
in the picture had 
extern] sorized a. very 
efficient and ingeni- 
ous mangle out t*f 
a form, a I able, and 
the cook's rolling- 
pin* The tnan seated 
on the upturned form 
only lends his weight 
to the proceedings, 
the other two push 
the form to and fro, 
until the article on 
the table has !>een 

sufficiently mangled by ihe rolling-pin."— Mr« K R. 
Need hum, Master Gunner, U.G.A., Lenan Head 
Battery, near Qonmany, Co. Donegal. 

" I send yon a curious photograph which may- 

interest some of your 
readers, It is a tele- 
scopic view of the 
inside of the arches 
of Chappel Viaduct, 
Ksses. These arches, 
thirty-two in num- 
ber, are 74ft* high, 
and form a vety 
imposing structure 
in the Colne Valley. 
1 took the photo, 
with * No. 4 Cart- 
ridge Kodak.' " — 
Miss Eva Brooks, 
Wakes Colrie, 


"The photo, I 
send you is of Mr, F, Croft, the Pen Hie King 
of Somers Town, lie has 4.900 buttons on his 
suit — i.e., as follows : 700 on cap, 1,500 on 
waist coM, 1*500 on trousers, 700 on belt, 500 on 
straps (wrist) ; total, 4,900/' — Mr, J. Breuiell, 7, 
Slar Street, Paddington, W. 


right, 1902, by Citor^c Ncwqcs, Limicd, 




these are disturbed by a species of eagle* which preys 
upon l he larvse, it is extremely dangerous to go anywhere 
in the vicinity, as these bees are so aggressive and so 
persistent in their attacks that they have been frequently 
known to pursue people fur miles ; and it is asserted that, 
even if the person dives under water in order to avoid 
ihem, they will remain hovering over ibe surface, and 
unless he is able to swim under water a considerable dis- 

"I beg to send you the enclosed photo, as 
a contribution to your ■ Curiosity a pages. A 
brother of mine tried to step through a long 
window, thinking it was open. Me found ii 
was closed, but succeeded in opening part of 
it t leaving the profile of Sir Wm. Harcourt in 
the gap* This is just as the glass remained 
when the noise subsided. >y — Mr. Arthur R. 
Mills, 38, Hilling Road, Northampton, 

" I send you a photograph of a peculiar umbrella! 
which I came across in an old farmhouse in this 
neighbourhood. It is made of white silk, with a 
turned ivory handle and round ivory ball at the top. 
Holes are pierced through to represent stars* It is 
more oFa sphere than shown in the photograph, and 
will not stand opening to the fullest extent" — Mr. 
A* O Meader, Sta I bridge, Dorset. 

M In the forests of Mysore there are four varieties 
of 1 »ees, the largest of which is called, in the Canarese 
language , * Hejjainoo/ These construct enormous 
hive* of a semicircular form, measuring frequently 
jft. by 3ft,, under the large, spreading branches of 
the loftiest trees in the jungle. There are often as 
many as 100 to 120 hives on a single tree, and when 

tance he will certainly be attacked when he reappears. 
The honey, although its flavour does not commend itself 
lo Knrnpcans, is nnirh appreciated by the natives* 
The ladders used by the toddy- men consist of single 
notched poles, placed one above the other, and it is 
remarkable hnw skilfully they carry out this dangerous 
operation- The Ikxs aie dispersed at night by means 
of straw torches, and the hives are removed with a 
sickle ami lowered to the ground with a basket 
attached to a rope," — Mr. T. Anderson, Barguai, 
Sak l;t spur, Hassan, Indict. 

" The toad -stool 
shown in the photo ■ 
graph was, in reality, 
about I ft* in height. 
A photograph was 
taken of it, the 
camera being placed 
about 1 Sin- behind 
the plant and on the 
ground. Being so 
close to the camera 
its height is en or- 
mo u sly exaggerated, 
the house in the 
background adding 
to this effect ," — 
Mr. It F- Branshy, 
Easingwold, V«tUQl| 




" I enclose for the ' Curiosities* section of 
your Magazine a photograph that I look, in 
a wild part of lirilish Columbia, on the 
* Snowshoe ' Mine, 5,000ft. above the sea, 
thinking lhat it may, perhaps, lie of some 
interest. The sign, which is lhat of a 
cabinet-maker, reads as follows : * You will 
be dead a long lime, While you live 


M I send you a photograph, taken in mid- Pacific on board 
ss. /htu\ of a young lady taken in a disused air-shaft, Being 
extremely agile she climbed in entirely without assistance, 
and uas there snapped by an American friend of mine." 
— Mr. j* W\ Glenny, 95, New Bond Street, \\\ 

111 ike your home a paradise. Buy furniture at 
_1 ; W. Jones, Grand Forks, EC. 1 "- Mr. Geo. 
G. Walerlow, Uplands, Fareham, [J ants. 

4i Most of the elephants in the United Slates are 
those used in connection with circuses, and come 
from the Old World. This elephant, however, is a 
produclion of the New World, and was raised in 
California. It is composed of walnuts grown near 
Los Angeles ; its bones are made of wotjd, and 
the walnuls were fastened upon a cloth covering the 
wooden framew r ork with glue. The tusks— also made 
of wood—- are whitened so that ihey closely resemble 
ivory. The elephant, which was on exhibition at 
the Van- American Kxjx>sition, is as birge as an ordi- 
nary baby elephant, being about 15ft, in length and 
over 6ft in height," — Mr. D. 'A. Willey t Baltimore. 

*'The enclosed photograph was taken by me, by 
flashlight, specially for TiJE Strand MAGAZINE, and 
represents a case containing bottles of home brewed 
ginger-beer, which was placed in a corner of a damp 
cellar, where it remained untouched for several 
month *. Upon going to it a few days ago to get a 
bottle I found the whole of the inside filled with a 
soft, white mould, which had also worked its way out 
through every joint on to the floor, where it was 
lianked up around the case, giving it exactly the 
au|>earance of having been out in a heavy snowstorm. 
None of the bottles had burst or leaked, and the only 
way I can account for such a curious formation is 
that in filling them a small quantity of the ginger- beer 
must have t^een spilt."— Mr. Herbert J. Mason, 
Carlton House, Edgbaston. 





11 I send you what I 
believe to be tlie only 
photograph I hat has 
ever been taken of 
i his huge insect. I 
photographed it my- 
self from the lop of 
the scaffolding which 
was erected round the 
sieeple of the Royal 
Exchange some time 
ago* Thousands of 
people must have 
noticed this insect as 
it slowly moves its 
^real head towards 
the point of the com- 
pass from which the 
wind may be blowing. The dimensions not being 
generally known, I give them a* follows; The grass- 
hopper is situated 1 85 ft* above the level of the 
ground. The spindle upon which it revolves is 1 6ft. 

did not wish 1u spoil 
the result by any 
movement on their 
part- The liesl effect 
is obtained by hold- 
ing the picture over 
(me's head/* — Mr. 
Robert R A. Ellis, 
rg t Artillery Build- 
ings, Victoria Street, 
S.\V; — - 

<s The suhjecl of the 
photo. I send you is 
a disused traction- 
engine, which has In- 
come overgrown with 
(he grcmidilla (passion 
flower). Both the 

flower and the fruit are dtstinguishalile in the photo. 

The subject is on a farm near the main road 

between Durban and MariEzburg in this Colony* 1 ' 

— Nfr, b Ni)lan t Camperdown, NataL 






il My photo, is that of a porous-plaster pig on 
which I sowed grnss seed, and the effect is so 
ludicrous that I had it photographed solely for the 
edification of your imtny readers. I call it, + What is 
it— an animal, vegetable, or mineral?* In one way 
it is all three. "—Miss Edith A. Lewer, Work ham 
Lodge, No. I, Queens Place, South>ea* 

in height. The insect is 8ft. Sin, 
over all, 6 fL 41 n. from the head 
to the- tail, and from the hnck to 
the chest iff. jin.'*— Mr. Paul S. 
Holtorp, 105, Forest Road, 
Da 1st on T N. K. 

** I send you a photo* which 
represents an old staircase in & 
ma nor -house in the Midlands, and 
was taken by pointing the camera 
upwards. The reason of the serious 
faces of the ladies looking over 
the lanislers was that I promised 
them a box of chocolates if you 
reproduced the picture in Tin 
Strand, and, consequently, they x 

•Med by 





horns annually alkout the month of April, and they 
grow again to their full si^e by the middle of August ; 
the weight of a good pair averaging Sib, Tttey are 
usually shaken of? in the Open, though sometimes one 
is Found at the foot of a tree, showing it to have been 
knocked oft" when only one had fallen previously. 
The horns are at their best on a slag of about ei^ht 
summers, when they should possess all their rights 
with brow, bray, and tray, and sometimes four on 
top; after this they begin to deteriorate. Mr, Karber 
has l^een collecting the specimens for many years, 
there being forty pair and 
about twenty single horns 
hanging in his kitchen. The 
photograph is by Mon- 
tague Cooper, photographer, 

Jan 1 1 ton." — Mr. 



" Ten years ago a metei>r fell on the farm of .Mr. 
T, B. I^ane, Tahnadge, Ohio. It penetrated i6lt. 
into the earth. It was afterwards dug up, ami upon 
the death o Mr. Lane some years later was placed 
upon the family monument in Glendal Cemetery, 
Akron, Ohio, where it is one of the greatest 
attractions. - It resembles a great lump of iron on 1 . ' 
— Photo, by F, R, Archibald, 114, Balch Street, 
Akron, Ohio. 

" The horns shown in this picture are the property 
of Mr. J no. Barber, who for fifty-two years has lived 
on the estate of the late Mr. Fen wick Bissett, nt 
ftagljorough, so long the popular master of the 
Devon and Somerset Sta^r hounds. The wild red 
direr are now to Ire fuund in England only in the 
Counties of Somer>ct and Devon, roaming (tie I met 
of country contained in lines drawn from the Quan- 
lock Hill? across Kxmoor, to Barnstaple on the 
west and Dulverton on the east. The deer shed the 

II. M. 
29, East 


11 Each year the 
Chinese employed in 
(he salmon canneries at 
Fair haven, Washing- 
ton, make kites in a 
variety of shapes and 
sizes, which sing or 
hum when flying in the 
air. The kite shown 
here won a pri/e in the 
kite-flying contest, and 
the Chinamen who 
made it were very 
proud of it and held it 
outstretched sn that the 
picture could lie taken, 
The pi in 10. shows the 
kite flying in the air, It 
m i gh 1 1 >e men It 01 led I ha t 
kite-flying is a national 
pastime of the Chinese 
people." — Taken at 
Fair haven, Washing- 
ton, by Mr. F. A. Agar, 
p-preat Falls, Montana. 



f^ru"*nL" fc Original from 


iSea f*i£f 2 $2.) 

by Google 

Original from 

Vol. xxiii. 

The Strand Magazine. 

MARCH, 1902. 

No. 135. 

The Hound of the Baskervilles. 






IR HENRY was more pleased 

than surprised to see Sherlock 

Holmes, for he had for some 

days been expecting that recent 

events would bring him down 

from London. He did raise 
his eyebrows, however, when he found that 
my friend had neither any luggage nor any 
explanations for its absence. Between us 
we soon supplied his wants, and then over 
a belated supper we explained to the Baronet 
as much of our experience as it seemed 
desirable that he should know. But first I 
Had the unpleasant duty of breaking the 
news of Seidell's death to Barrymore and his 
wife. To him it may have been an un- 
mitigated relief, but she wept bitterly in her 
apron. To all the world he was the man of 
violence, half animal and half demon ; but to 
her he always remained the little wilful boy 
of her own girlhood, the child who had clung 
to her hand. Evil indeed is the man who 
has not one woman to mourn him. 

" I've been moping in the house all day 
since Watson went off in the morning," said 
the Baronet. " I guess I should have some 
credit, for I have kept my promise. If I 
hadn't sworn not to go about alone I might 
have had a more lively evening, for I had 
a message from Stapleton asking me over 

" I have no doubt that you would have 
had a more lively evening," said Holmes, 
drily. "By the way, I don't suppose you 
appreciate that we have been mourning over 
you as having broken your neck ? " 

Sir Henry opened his eyes. " How was 

"This poor wretch was dressed in your 
clothes. I fear your servant who gave them 
to him may get into trouble with the police." 

VoL xxiii. — 3' Copyright, 1902, by George Newnes, Limited, 

"That is unlikely. There was no mark 
on any of them, so far as I know." 

" That's lucky for him — in fact, it's lucky 
for all of you, since you are all on the wrong 
side of the law.jn this matter. I am not 
sure that as a conscientious detective my 
first duty is not to arrest the whole house- 
hold. Watson's reports are most incriminat- 
ing documents." 

" But how about the case ? " asked the 
Baronet. " Have you made anything out of 
the tangle ? I don't know that Watson and 
I are much the wiser since we came down." 

" I think that I shall be in a position to 
make the situation rather more clear to you 
before long. It has been an exceedingly 
difficult and most complicated business. 
There are several points upon which we still 
want light — but it is coming, all the same." 

" We've had one experience, as Watson 
has no doubt told you. We heard the hound 
on the moor, so I can swear that it is not all 
empty superstition. I had something to do 
with dogs when I was out West, and 1 know 
one when I hear one. If you can muzzle 
that one and put him on a chain I'll be ready 
to swear you are the greatest detective of all 

" I think I will muzzle him and chain him 
all right if you will give me your help." 

" Whatever you tell me to do I will do." 

" Very good ; and I will ask you also to do 
it blindly, without always asking the reason." 

"Just as you like." 

" If you will do this I think the chances 
are that our little problem will soon be 
solved. I have no doubt " 

He stopped suddenly and stared fixedly 
up over my head into the air. The lamp 
beat upon his face, and so intent was it and 
so still that it might have been that of a 
clear-cut classical statue, a personification of 
alertness and expectation,,. _ t .. 



" What is it ? " we both cried. 

I could see as he looked down that he 
was repressing some internal emotion. His 
features were still composed! but his eyes 
shone with amused exultation. 

" Excuse the admiration of a connoisseur," 
said he, as he waved his hand towards the 
line of portraits which covered the opposite 
wall, " Watson won't allow that I know 
anything of art, 
hut that is mere 
jealousy } be- 
cause our views 
upon the sub- 
ject differ. Now, 
these are a really 
very fine series 
of portraits*" 

M Well, I'm 
glad to hear you 
say so," said Sir 
Henry, glancing 
with some sur~ 
prise at my 
friend. " I don't 
pretend to know 
much about 
these things, 
and I'd be a 
better judge of 
a horse or a steer J 
than of a picture. 
I didn't know 
that you found 
time for such things." 

" I know what is good when 
I see it, and I see it,;iow. 
That's a Kneller, I'll swear, 
that lady in the blue silk over 
yonder, and the stout gentle- 
man with the wig ought to be a 
Reynolds, They are all family 
portraits, I presume?" 

II Every one," 

" Do you know the names ? " 

" Barry more has been coaching me in 
them, and I think I can say my lessons fairly 

"Who is the gentleman with the tele- 
scope ? " 

"That is Rear-Admiral Raskerville, who 
served under Rodney in the West Indies. 
The man with the blue coat and the roll of 
paper is Sir William Baskerville, who was 
Chairman of Committees of the House of 
Commons under Pitt." 

"And this Cavalier opposite to me — the 
one with the black velvet and the lace?" 

"Ah, you have a right to know about him. 


That is the cause of all the mischief, the 
wicked Hugo, who started the Hound ot the 
Baskervilles. We're not likely to forget 

I gazed with interest and some surprise 
upon the portrait. 

"Dear me! J! said Holmes, "he seems a 
quiet, meek-mannered man enough, but I 
daresay that there was a lurking devil in his 

eyes. 1 had 
pictured him as 
a more robust 
and ruffianly 

" There's no 
doubt about the 
authenticity, for 
the name and 
the date, 1647, 
are on the back 
of the canvas." 1 

Holmes said 
little more, but 
the picture of 
the old roysterer 
seemed to have 
a fascination for 
him, and his 
eyes were con- 
tinually fixed 
upon it during 
supper It was 
not until later, 
when Sir Henry 
had gone to his 
room, that I 
was able to 
follow the trend 
of his thoughts. 
He led me back 
into the ban- 
quet! ng-hal I, his 
bedroom candle 
in his hand, and he held it up against the 
time-stained portrait on the wall. 
" Do you see anything there ? " 
I looked at the broad plunied hat, the 
curling love-locks, the white lace collar, and 
the straight, severe face which was framed 
between them. It was not a brutal counten- 
ance, but it was prim t hard, and stern^ with 
a firm-set, thin-lipped mouth, and a coldly 
intolerant eye, 

"is it like anyone you know ? '* 
" There is something of Sir Henry about 
the jaw." 

"Just a suggestion, perhaps. But wait an 
instant ! " He stood upon a chair, and hold- 

^ up w^ftY tip msM he corv,:d 





his right arm over the broad hat and round 
the long ringlets, 

" Good heavens \ " I cried, in amazement. 

The face of Stapleton had sprung out of 
the canvas. 

14 Ha, you see it now. My eyes have been 
trained to examine faces and not their trim- 

" With designs upon the succession," 
" Exactly, This chance of the picture 
has supplied us with one of our most obvious 
missing links. We have him, Watson, we 
have him, and I dare swear that before to- 
morrow night he will be fluttering in our net 
as helpless as one of his own butterflies, A 

M, <;onn hkavfxs! 1 i cmt:n t IN amazement,' 

mings. It is the first quality of a criminal 
investigator that he should see through a 

41 But this is marvellous. It might be his 

"Yes, it is an interesting instance of a 
throw -back, which appears to be both 
physical and spiritual. A study of family 
portraits is enough to convert a man to the 
doctrine of reincarnation. The fellow is a 
Baskerville— that is evident." 

pitij a cork, and a card, and we add him 
to the Baker Street collection ! " He burst 
into one of his rare fits of laughter as he 
turned away from the picture. I have not 
heard him laugh often, and it has always 
boded ill to somebody. 

I was up betimes in the morning, but 
Holmes was afoot earlier still for I saw him 
as I dressed coming up the drive. 

* l Yes, we should have a full day to-day," 
he ^p W ^^ lD l(r^^ |h hi S hands with 



the joy of action. "The nets are all in 
place, and the drag is about to begin. 
We'll know before the day is out whether we 
have caught our big, lean -jawed pike, or 
whether he has got through the meshes." 

" Have you been on the moor already?" 

" I have sent a report from Grimpen to 
Princetown as to the death of Selden. I 
think I can promise that none of you will be 
troubled in the matter. And I have also 
communicated with my faithful Cartwright, 
who would certainly have pined away at the 
door of my hut as a dog does at his master's 
grave if I had not set his mind at rest about 
my safety." 

" What is the next move ? " 

"To see Sir Henry. Ah, here he is ! " 

" Good morning, Holmes," said the 
Baronet. " You look like a general who is 
planning a battle with his chief of the 

"That is the exact situation. Watson was 
asking for orders." 

" And so do I." 

"Very good. You are engaged, as I 
understand, to dine with our friends the 
Stapletons to-night." 

" I hope that you will come also. They 
are very hospitable people, and I am sure 
that they would be very glad to see you." 

" I fear that Watson and I must go to 

"To London?" 

" Yes, I think that we should be more use- 
ful there at the present juncture." 

The Baronet's face perceptibly lengthened. 

" I hoped that you were going to see me 
through this business. The Hall and the 
moor are not very pleasant places when one 
is alone." 

" My dear fellow, you must trust me impli- 
citly and do exactly what I tell you. You 
can tell your friends that we should have 
been happy to have come with you, but that 
urgent business required us to be in town. 
We hope very soon to return to Devonshire. 
Will you remember to give them that 
message ? " 

" If you insist upon it." 

" There is no alternative, I assure you." 

I saw by the Baronet's clouded brow that 
he was deeply hurt by what he regarded as 
our desertion. 

"When do you desire to go?" he asked, 

"Immediately after breakfast. We will 
drive in to Coombe Tracey, but Watson will 
leave his things as a pledge that he will come 
back to you. Watson, you will send a note 

to Stapleton to tell him that you regret that 
you cannot come." 

" I have a good mind to go to Ix>ndon 
with you," said the Baronet. " Why should 
I stay here alone ? " 

" Because it is your post of duty. Be- 
cause you gave me your word that you 
would do as you were told, and I tell you 
to stav." 

" All right, then, I'll stay." 

" One more direction ! I wish you to 
drive to Merripit House. Send back your 
trap, however, and let them know that you 
intend to walk home." 

" To walk across the moor ? " 


"But that is the very thing which you 
have so often cautioned me not to do." 

"This time you may do it with safety. If 
I had not every confidence in your nerve 
and courage I would not suggest it, but it is 
essential that you should do it." 

"Then I will do it." 

" And as you value your life do not go 
across the moor in any direction save along 
the straight path which leads from Merripit 
House to the Grimpen Road, and is your 
natural way home." 

" I will do just what you say." 

" Very good. I should be glad to get 
away as soon after breakfast as possible, so 
as to reach London in the afternoon." 

I was much astounded by this programme, 
though I remembered that Holmes had said 
to Stapleton on the night before that his 
visit would terminate next day. It had not 
crossed my mind, however, that he would 
wish me to go with him, nor could I under- 
stand how we could both be absent at a 
moment which he himself declared to be 
critical. There was nothing for it, however, 
but implicit obedience ; so we bade good-bye 
to our rueful friend, and a couple of hours 
afterwards we were at the station of Coombe 
Tracey and had dispatched the trap upon its 
return journey. A small boy was waiting 
upon the platform. 

" Any orders, sir ? " 

"You will take this train to town, Cart- 
wright. The moment you arrive you will 
send a wire to Sir Henry Baskerville, in my 
name, to say that if he finds the pocket-book 
which I have dropped he is to send it by 
registered post to Baker Street." 

" Yes, sir." 

" And ask at the station office if there is a 
message for me." 

The boy return^ frotfol a telegram, which 

H °lm<tfNfc^4Yt e FiraiGftM ran : "Wire 



received. Coming down with unsigned 
warra n t . A r r i ve fi ve-f ort y , — Lest r a d e, v 

"That is in answer to mine of this morn- 
ing* He is the best of the professionals, I 
think, and we may need his assistance. 
Now, Watson, I think that we cannot employ 
our time better than by calling upon your 
acquaintance, Mrs. I^aura Lyons." 

His plan of campaign was beginning to be 
evident He would use the Baronet in order 
to convince the Stapletons that we were 
really gone, while we should actually return 
at the instant when we were likely to be 
needed. That telegram from London, if 
mentioned by Sir Henry to the Stapletons, 
must remove the last suspicions from their 
minds. Already I seemed to see our nets 
drawing closer round that lean-jawed pike, 

Mrs. Laura Lyons was in her office, and 
Sherlock Holmes opened his interview with 

you have communicated, and aho of what 
you have withheld in connection with that 

"What have I withheld?" she asked, 

" You have confessed that you asked Sir 
Charles to be at the gate at ten o'clock. We 
know that that was the place and hour of his 
death* You have withheld what the connec- 
tion is between these events/' 

" There is no connection." 

11 In that case the coincidence must indeed 
be an extraordinary one. But I think that 
we shall succeed in establishing a connection 
after all I wish to be perfectly frank with 
you, Mrs. Lyons. We regard this case as 
one of murder, and the evidence may 
implicate not only your friend Mr. Stapleton, 
but his wife as well." 

The lady sprang from her chair. 


a frankness and directness which consider- 
ably amazed her. 

** I am investigating the circumstances 
which attended the death of the late Sir 
Charles Baskervillc/ 1 said he. u My friend 
here, Dr. Watson, has informed me of what 

" His wife ! " she cried, 

" The fact is no longer a secret The 
person who has passed for his sister is really 
his wife.'* 

Mrs. Lvfflriqhadl lhasuifmed her seat. Her 

^<Hl|fl^8ffff&BMh?HfSffH of her chair > 



and I saw that the pink nails had turned 
white with the pressure of her grip. 

" His wife ! " she said, again. " His wife ! 
He was not a married man/' 

Sherlock Holmes shrugged his shoulders. 

" Prove it to me ! Prove it to me ! And 

if you can do so ! " The fierce flash of her 

eyes said more than any words. 

" I have come prepared to do so," said 
Holmes, drawing several papers from his 
pocket. " Here is a photograph of the 
couple taken in York four years ago. It is 
indorsed 4 Mr. and Mrs. Vandeleur/ but you 
will have no difficulty in recognising him, 
and her also, if you know her by sight. 
Here are three written descriptions by trust- 
worthy witnesses of Mr. and Mrs. Vandeleur, 
who at that time kept St. Oliver's private 
school. Read them, and see if. you can 
doubt the identity of these people." 

She glanced at them, and then looked up 
at us with the set, rigid face of a desperate 

44 Mr. Holmes," she said, " this man 
had offered me marriage on condition that I 
could get a divorce from my husband. He 
has lied to me, the villain, in every con- 
ceivable way. Not one word of truth has he 
ever told me. And why — why ? I imagined 
that all was for my own sake. But now I 
see that I was never anything but a tool in 
his hands. Why should I preserve faith 
with him who never kept any with me? 
Why should I try to shield him from the 
consequences of his own wicked acts ? Ask 
me what you like, and there is nothing which 
I shall hold back. One thing I swear to 
you, and that is, that when I wrote the 
letter I never dreamed of any harm to the 
old gentleman, who had been my kindest 

44 I entirely believe you, madam," said 
Sherlock Holmes. " The recital of these 
events must be very painful to you, and 
perhaps it will make it easier if I tell you 
what occurred, and you can check me if I 
make any material mistake. The sending 
of this letter was suggested to you by 
Stapleton ? " 

" He dictated it." 

44 I presume that the reason he gave was 
that you would receive help from Sir Charles 
for the legal expenses connected with your 
divorce ? " 

44 Exactly." 

11 And then after you had sent the letter 
he dissuaded you from keeping the appoint- 
ment ? " 

" He told me that it would hurt his self- 

respect that any other man should find the 
money for such an object, and that though 
he was a poor man himself he would devote 
his last penny to removing the obstacles 
which divided us." 

" He appears to be a very consistent 
character. And then you heard nothing 
until you read the reports of the death in the 
paper ? " 


" And he made you swear to say nothing 
about your appointment with Sir Charles ? " 

" He did. He said that the death was a 
very mysterious one, and that I should cer- 
tainly be suspected if the facts came out. 
He frightened me into remaining silent." 

" Quite so. But you had your suspicions?" 

She hesitated and looked down. 

44 1 knew him," she said. <4 But if he had 
kept faith with me I should always have done 
so with him." 

44 1 think that on the whole you have had 
a fortunate escape," said Sherlock Holmes. 
41 You have had him in your power and he 
knew it, and yet you are alive. You have 
been walking for some months very near to 
the edge of a precipice. We must wish you 
good morning now, Mrs. Lyons, and it is 
probable that you will very shortly hear from 
us again." 

44 Our case becomes rounded off, and 
difficulty after difficulty thins away in front of 
us," said Holmes, as we stood waiting for 
the arrival of the express from town. 44 1 
shall soon be in the position of being able to 
put into a single connected narrative one of 
the most singular and sensational crimes of 
modern times. Students of criminology will 
remember the analogous incidents in Grodno, 
in Little Russia, in the year '66, and of course 
there are the Anderson murders in North 
Carolina, but this case possesses some features 
which are entirely its own. Even now we 
have no clear case against this very wily man. 
But I shall be very much surprised if it is 
not clear enough before we go to bed this 

The London express came roaring into the 
station, and a small, wiry bulldog of a man 
had sprung from a first-class carriage. We 
all three shook hands, and I saw at once 
from the reverential way in which Lestrade 
gazed at my companion that he had learned 
a good deal since the days when they had 
first worked together. I could well re- 
member the scorn which the theories of the 
reasoner used then to excite in the practical 




" The biggest thing for years/ said 
Holmes- " We have two hours before we 
need think of starting. I think we might 

professional caution, which urged him never 
to take any chances. The result, however, 
was very trying for those who were acting as 


employ it in getting some dinner, and then, 
I^estrade, we will take the London fog out of 
your throat by giving you a breath of the 
pure night air of Dartmoor. Never been 
there? Ah, well, I don't suppose you will 
forget your first visit." 



One of Sherlock Holmes's defects— if, in- 
deed, one may call it a defect — was that 
he was exceedingly loth to communicate his 
full plans to any other person until the 
instant of their fulfilment. Partly it came 
no doubt from his own masterful nature, 
which loved to dominate and surprise those 
who were around him* Partly also from his 

his agents and assistants. I had often 
suffered under it, but never ^more so than 
during that long drive in the darkness. The 
great ordeal was in front of us ; at last we 
were about to make our final effort, and yet 
Holmes had said no tiling, and I could only 
surmise what his course of action would be. 
My nerves thrilled with anticipation when at 
last the cold wind upon our faces and the 
dark, void spaces on either side of the narrow 
road told me that we were back upon the 
moor once again. livery stride of the horses 
and every turn of the wheels was taking us 
nearer to our supreme adventure* 

Our conversation was hampered by the 
presence of the driver of the hired wagonette, 
so that we were forced to talk of trivial 
matters wlQfiigi/Ml feHSfts were tense with 




emotion and anticipation. It was a relief to 
me, after that unnatural restraint, when we 
at last passed Frankland's house and knew 
that we were drawing near to the Hall and 
to the scene of action. We did not drive 
up to the door, but got down near the gate 
of the avenue. The wagonette was paid off 
and ordered to return to Temple Coombe 
forthwith, while we started to walk to 
Merripit House. 

"Are you armed, Lestrade ? ** 

The little detective smiled. 

"As long as I have my trousers I have a 

hip -pocket, and as long as I 
have my hip-pocket I have some- 
thing in it." 

il Good ! M) friend and I are 
also ready for emergencies/' 

11 You're mighty close about 
this affair, Mr. Holmes. What's 
the game now? ? ' 

" A waiting game/' 

"My word, it does not seem a 
very cheerful place, 1 ' said the 
detective, with a shiver, glancing 
round him at the gloomy slopes 
of the hill and at the huge lake 
of fog which lay over the Grim- 
pen Mire. li I see the lights of a 
house ahead of us." 

14 That is Merripit House and 
the end of our journey. I must 
request you to walk on tiptoe and 
not to talk above :* whisper/" 

We moved cautiously along; the track as if 
we were bound for the house, but Holmes 
halted us when we were about two hundred 
yards from it. 

Digitized by Google 

" This will do," said he. ** These rocks 
upon the right make an admirable screen." 
'* We are to wait here ?" 
"Yes, we shall make our little ambush 
here. Get into this hollow, Le?» trade, You 
have been inside the house, have you not, 
Watson? Can you tell the position of the 
rooms ? What are those latticed windows at 
this end?" 

li I think they are the kitchen windows." 
"And the one beyond, which shines so 
brightly ? " 

"That is certainly the dining-room." 

"The blinds are 
up. You know the 
lie of the land best. 
Creep forward 
quietly and see 
what i hey are doing 
— but for Heaven's 
sake don't let them 
know that they are 
watched ! " 

I tip-toed down 
the path and 
stooped behind the 
low wall which 
surrounded the 
stunted orchard. 
Creeping in its 
shadow I reached 
a point whence I 
could look straight 
through the uncur- 
tained window. 

There were only 
two men in the 
room, Sir Henry 
and Stapleton. 
They sat with their 
profiles towards me 
on eiiher side of 
the round table. 
Both of them were 
smoking cigars, 
and coffee and 
wine were in front 
of them, Stapleton 
was talking with 
animation, but the 
Baronet looked 
pale and distrait. 
Perhaps the 
thought of that 
lonely walk across 
the ill-omened moor was weighing heavily 
upon his mind. 

As I watched them Stapleton rose and left 

the room t while Sir Henrv filled his glass 
Original from J 





again and leaned back in his chair, puffing 
at his cigar. I heard the creak of a door 
and the crisp sound of boots upon gravel. 
The steps passed along the path on the other 
side of the wall under which I crouched. 
Looking over, I saw the naturalist pause at 
the door of an out-house in the corner of 
the orchard. A key turned in a lock, and 
as he passed in there was a curious scuffling 
noise from within. He was only a minute 
or so inside, and then I heard the key turn 
once more and he passed me and re-entered 
the house. I saw him rejoin his guest, and 
I crept quietly back "to where my com- 
panions were waiting to tell them what I 
had seen. 

" You say, Watson, that the lady is not 
there ? " Holmes asked, when I had finished 
my report 

" No." 

" Where can she be, then, since there 
is no light in any other room except the 
kitchen ? " 

"I cannot think where she is." 

I have said that over the great Grimpen 
Mire there hung a dense, white fog. It was 
drifting slowly in our direction and banked 
itself up like a wall on that side of us, low, 
but thick and well defined. The moon 
shone on it, and it looked like a great shim- 
mering icefield, with the heads of the distant 
tors as rocks borne upon its surface. 
Holmes's face was turned towards it, and he 
muttered impatiently as he watched its 
sluggish drift. 

" It's moving towards us, Watson." 

" Is that serious ? " 

" Very serious, indeed — the one thing 
upon earth which could have disarranged my 
plans. He can't be very long, now. It is 
already ten o'clock. Our success and even 
his life may depend upon his coming out 
before the fog is over the path." 

The night was clear and fine above us. 
The stars shone cold and bright, while a 
half-moon bathed the whole scene in a soft, 
uncertain light Before us lay the dark bulk 
of the house, its serrated roof and bristling 
chimneys hard outlined against the silver- 
spangled sky. Broad bars of golden light 
from the lower windows stretched across the 
orchard and the moor. One of them was 
suddenly shut off. The servants had left 
the kitchen. There only remained the lamp 
in the dining-room where the two men, the 
murderous host and the unconscious guest, 
still chatted over their cigars. 

Every minute that white woolly plain 
whiph covered one half of the moor was 

drifting closer and closer to the house. 
Already the first thin wisps of it were curling 
across the golden square of the lighted 
window. The farther wall of the orchard 
was already invisible, and the trees were 
standing out of a swirl of white vapour. As 
we watched it the fog-wreaths came crawling 
round both corners of the house and rolled 
slowly into one dense bank, on which the 
upper floor and the roof floated like a 
strange ship upon a shadowy sea. Holmes 
struck his hand passionately upon the rock 
in front of us, and stamped his feet in his 

" If he isn't out in a quarter of an hour 
the path will be covered. In half an hour 
we won't be able to see our hands in front of 

" Shall we move farther back upon higher 
ground ? " 

" Yes, I think it would be as well." 

So as the fog-bank flowed onwards we fell 
back before it until we were half a mile from 
the house, and still that dense white sea, with 
the moon silvering its upper edge, swept 
slowly and inexorably on. 

"We are going too far," said Holmes. 
" We dare not take the chance of his being 
overtaken before he can reach us. At all 
costs we must hold our ground where we 
are." He dropped on his knees and clapped 
his ear to the ground. " Thank Heaven, I 
think that I hear him coming." 

A sound of quick steps broke the silence 
of the moor. Crouching among the stones 
we stared intently at the silver-tipped bank 
in front of us. The steps grew louder, and 
through the fog, as through a curtain, there 
stepped the man whom we were awaitn.g. 
He looked round him in surprise as he 
emerged into the clear, star-lit night. Then he 
came swiftly along the path, passed close to 
where we lay, and went on up the long slope 
behind us. As he walked he glanced con- 
tinually over either shoulder, like a man who 
is ill at ease. 

" Hist ! " cried Holmes, and I heard the 
sharp click of a cocking pistol. " Look out ! 
It's coming!" 

There was a thin, crisp, continuous patter 
from somewhere in the heart of that 
crawling bank. The cloud was within fifty 
yards of where we lay, and we glared at it, 
all three, uncertain what horror was about to 
break from the heart of it I was at Holmes's 
elbow, and I glanced for an instant at his 
face. It was pale and exultant, his eyes 
shining brightly in the moonlight But 
suddenly they started forward in a rigid, fixed 


2S Z 


stare, and his lips parted in amazement. At 
the same instant Lestrade gave a yell of 
terror and threw himself face downwards 
upon the ground, I sprang to my feet, my 

have ever seen, Fire burst from its open 
mouth, its eyes glowed with a smouldering 
glare, its muzzle and hackles and dewlap were 
outlined in flickering flame. Never in the 


inert hand grasping my pistol, my mind 
paralyzed by the dreadful shape which had 
sprung out upon us from the shadows of the 
fog. A hound it was, an enormous coal-black 
hound, but not such a hound as mortal eyes 

delirious dream of a disordered brain could 
anything more savage, more appalling, more 
hellish be comeived than that dark form and 
savage fare which broke upon us out of the 

wall of fog* 

{To he concluded*) 

by Google 

Original from 

^S\j THE 

L_ 4 o 

A erro^c 


E. D. Cuminc; 


J. A, Shepherd. 

would be becoming, but these qualities 
arc foreign to hare character : — 
I am not mad, unless it be for thee, clear ; 

With joy I skip lo hear ihee softly squealing. 
1 love ! am loved ! Could an encyclopedia 

Tell all— leU half— that 1 this hour am feeling? 

The squirrel wakes up thoroughly 
now and comes out of his bedroom for 

HE madness of the March 
hare is not for treatment by 
doctors nor investigation by 
Commissioners in Lunacy. 
He is in love : nothing else 
is the matter with him ; hut high spirits sub- 
merge a weak head, and, intoxicated by 
thoughts of " her," he indulges in the antics 
and follies that have made him a byword. A 
little self- control, a little dignified reserve, 

the yean The gnats and various flies respond 
to the increasing warmth of the sun and come 
out to enjoy it. The bats, who have sent out 
a messenger to report on the weather a score 
of times since, they, went to bed, get up, or, 
rather, get down, and, blinking and winking, 




come out to en- 
joy the gnats. 
The bat's system 
of catching in- 
sects is simple 
and efficacious : 
his wingSj as you 
know> extend to 
the tip of his tail ; 
when he flies he 
bends his tail 
under and makes 
a neat little pouch 
in which he nets 
insects as he 
swoops through 
the swarm, and 
there he keeps 
them until he 
goes home. He 
can't eat their 
wings ; for if he 
did they would 
probably choke 
him, so he always 
nips them off : 
with praiseworthy 
refinement he 
always puts his 
wing before his 
mouth while eat- 
ing; thus other 
bats are n ot 
offended by this 
little habit The 
toad is about 
again : it takes 

him some time to collect his faculties after 
five months' unbroken slumber, and he sits 
gazing thoughtfully upwards to assure him- 
self that the sky remains where he left it. 
Having fully realized the fact that suspension 
of his interest in creation has produced no 
serious effect upon the solar system he goes 
to look for a worm. His si^ht is indifferent, 
and he is never sure whether a worm is a 
worm until it moves : then he pounres on it 
ope A i mouthed and swallows it alive. The 
worm is prone to return under this treatment, 
but the toad thrusts him back with a firm, 
unsparing hand. 

The cock pheasant is crowing bravely ; it 
is his method of inquiring whether anyone 
knows just cause or impediment to his union 
with the pretty youn^ hen who has accepted 
his advances. If there l>e another cock 
within hearing there will be a fight. A 
pheasant- fight is an affair of honour— even 
less serious than a hare-fi^ht : half-a-dozen 

fight: hn 

pecks and kicks 
on either side 
and it is over, 
then more crow- 
ing and wing- 
clapping to an- 
nounce that both 
combatants won. 
The cock phea- 
sant marries with 
discretion. The 
young bird un- 
versed in matri- 
mony begins with 
one wife, to 
whom he pays 
some attention. 
As he grows 
older and finds 
wedded life has 
for him no re- 
sponsibilities at 
all, he marries 
profusely : six or 
eight wives are 
no more trouble 
than one when 
each supports 
herself, The 
birds who gath- 
ered together in 
flocks for the 
winter have 
broken up their 
parties now, and 
separate on 
"urgent private 
affairs." The linnets are pairing ; so are the 
chaffinches, whose courtship, by the way, is 
worth watching. The cock is a smartly- 
dressed fellow, and he knows it ; and he 
shows off his clothes with an ingenuous vanity 
that is charming. 

When a hird goes in search of a Uritle, 

And he favour would find in her sight, 
False modest) 1 gora to one side, 

For what use is there hiding one's light ? 
Though she doesn't attend when he talks, 

And only looks liored when he sings, 
She's impressed when she sees how he walks, 
And admires the good taste of his '* things/ 1 

The chaffinch has a proper sense of his own 
importance, however, and does not waste 
time on a hen who is slow to make up her 

The golden plovers, who generally spend 
the winter at the seaside, come inland : those 
who mean to start housekeeping in this coun- 
try rt-sori to the moors and high-lying wastes, 
and those wlQripre&tfflOEfcoier climate take 




wing for Northern Europe, 
woodcock who came to see 
make up their minds to stay : 
plantations in these islands 

Many of the 
us in October 
the increase of 
during recent 

years has won the woodcocks hearty 
approval , and those who don't care for 
travelling are glad to nest in our coverts, 
The majority, though, like many other 
migrants, pack up and go north, by night, as 
if leaving unpaid bills behind them. The 
snipe are on the 
move, too, either 
bound or to the 
marshes where 
they breed ; the 
teal, smallest of 
our ducks, is also 
looking oiJt for 
a home. These 
birds do not in- 
tend to start 
house keepi ng 
already —though 
the woodcock 
does not lose 
much time : like 
sensible parents, 
they like to seek 
at leisure a place 
where they can 
bring up a family 
in comfort and 

The earliest of 
the spring arrivals 
from the South 
are coming now. 
The cock pied- 
wagtails who 
went away for 
the winter are 
back, and their 
wives will appear 
a little later. The 
pied-wag tail 
puts on a little 
extra swagger in 
these days : he seems to be 
his travels, as they brag who seldom leave 
their own parish ; so many of his species 
find this country quite good enough for them 
in the cold weather The goldfinches -those 
of them who fled the English winter — are 
coming back, too, and are joining in the 
concerts, now increasing every day. These 
early spring arrivals find the homeward 
journey rather too much for them when the 
equinoctial gales are blowing, and, like more 


highly organized beings after a gale in the 
Channel, stop the moment they reach the 
shore to rest before continuing their journey 
inland. The equinoctial gales are respon- 
sible for many accidents that would demand 
staring head - lines and large type to 
describe, did birds conduct newspapers. 
Travelling, as many species on migration do, 
at night, there is always the risk of coming 
against a telegraph wire when descending, 

and the risk is 
doubled when 
there is a high 
wind. Birds are 
apt to take too 
much for granted 
when moving 
from place to 
place. When the 
first wires were 
stretched along 
the Highland 
railway the men 
working on the 
line found it well 
worth while to 
keep their eyes 
open when going 
to work in the 


bragging about 

morning; the 
grouse commit- 
ted suicide by 
dozens every 
night against 
telegraph and 
fence wires* 

The golden- 
crested wren, 
smallest of Euro- 
pean birds, is 
creeping about 
in the pine- tops* 
singing to him- 
self in a diffident 
whisper. The 
gold crest's is 
hardly a song 
that flattery it- 
self would applaud : indeed, the conscien- , 
tious listener only calls it a song as a con- 
cession to diminutive beauty, The blackbird 
and thrush are singing vigorously, and the 
starling, with cheerful disregard of the copy- 
light laws, is singing by turns as much of the 
song of each as he can remember. It must 
be exasperating to a blackbird to hear that 
spurious imitation of his best notes attributed 
to himself. 

The mole is busier than ever, for his wife 




is nursing five 
children in the 
nest under the 
big mole - hill 
where two tunnels 
cross, and he 
can't collect 
worms and grubs 
fast enough to 
satisfy her, A 
hungry mole has 
not a shred of 
manners : he or 
she grabs at any- 
thing eatable and 
tears it to pieces 
like a famishing 
wolf. Hunger 
seems to drive 
the mole frantic. 
The badgers are 
very busy too* 
These, the near- 
est British re- 
presentatives of 
the bears, are 
the county families 
in virtue of their 


* i. 


among wild creatures, 
fidelity to their cete. 

society make him appear 

rare. Sometimes he allows 

a fox to take a room in his 

vast underground house, 

but whether he is always 

on friendly terms with the 

lodger is doubtful. just 

now, winter being well over 

and the appearance of a 

family being imminent, he 

and his wife are cleaning 

up their ancestral home with 

their own hands, bringing 

out barrow-loads 

of bract en and 

leaves during the 


Gone is our greatness ! 

Let it be confer 
That we, compelled 
by poverty r alas ! 
Musi lake the fox in 
as a paying guest. 
Nay ! things are 
come wiih ns to 
such a pass 
I Ho spring-cleanin* 
in an apron tlrest. 

The badger possesses the unique accom- 
plishment of being able to walk and trot 
backwards: a talent which stood him in ill 
stead when the Lt sport " or cruelty of badger- 
drawing had vogue. 

The little brown ants come out and run 
about doing nothing with feverish industry. 
If they could make up their minds which 
way to go and what to do when they got 
there, and didn't get in one another 's way 
at every turn, their application to business 
might be more fruitful of results ; but who 
shall take it upon him to judge the ant? 
Even now in the ant-hill the eggs of the 
plant-louse are hatching out in their special 
cells ; the ant carried them in last autumn, 
with an eye to his own needs this summer. 
The lice produce a secretion which the ant 
likes, so in his foresight and wisdom he rears 
them from the egg and pets and feeds and 


as the badger's residence is called. There 
are old family cetes in England which 
have been occupied for centuries. The 
badger is commoner than many people sup- 
pose : his retiring habits and avoidance of 






proval the operations of ducks and water- fowl 

who eat the eggs in thousands off the weeds 

on which they were placed for safety. The 

pike is too much addicted to eating his 

acquaintances to be popular among them : 

the perch, whose prickly back fin gives him 

security, is the only respectable fish that 

cares to be seen near him. In the sea the 

winter herring, so called to distinguish hiin 

from himself as a summer visitor, has arrived 

off the coast under his usual 

escort of whales, dogfish, and 

gulls, to receive his usual 

welcome in the nets, The 

herrings hang about for a few 

weeks, then come into the 

shallows and stick their eggs 

cares for them, as a man who plays at farm- 
ing pets his Jersey cows. Andr£, one of 
the great authorities upon ant economics, 
counted 584 kinds of tiny insects, 542 of 
them belonging to the beetle persuasion, 
which are kept in domestication by various 
species of ant. We have learned something 
about the ant's social system : when we are 
clever enough, perhaps, we shall be able to 
pick up hints from them concerning the 
management of streets and political obstruc- 

The pike withdraw from the deep pools and 
seek the seclusion of comparatively shallow, 
weedy streams* where they spawn. The pike 
lays about 800 eggs for each pound of her 
own weight, and other fish view with ap- 


upon stones 

and shells: 

then they put 

out to sea 

again. Her- 
rings are said 

on good 

authority to be 

able to utter 


sounds : you 

are not to 

picture the 

shoal singing 

the National Anthem : their vocal efforts are 

limited to a sound like a deep-toned bell 
or gong which has been heard while 
the net was being drawn over them. 
The mackerel is in season now : in 
other words, he is most interesting 
on the table. Legend has wreathed 


Vol. jKKiii. — 33- 

Kthb mackerel is most interesting AT.TAbfcMjTll "iTOITl 


2 5 8 


itself round the personal history of the 
mackerel. ^lian says that fishermen 
used to train selected specimens to decoy 
their fellows into the net : equally remark^ 
able, the children of these highly-educated 
fish inherited the accomplishment from their 
parents. Either the intelligence of the 
mackerel has undergone very great deteriora- 
tion since itlian wrote in the second century, 
or inventive fisher- boys imposed upon the 
credulity of that 

Down in the 
underwood the 
wrens, tails up as 
usual, are hop- 
ping from one 
eligible building 
lot to another, 
and find it diffi- 
cult to make a 
choice, for that 
beautiful domed 
nest must be hid- 
den so carefully 
that nobody shall 
find it. At last 
they decide on a 
bramble - smoth- 
ered bush and 
get to work. One 
day when the 
nest is half fin- 
ished the jenny 
wren drops a 
thread of grass 
with a scream 
and turns pale — 
if birds can turn 
pale. Some- 
body has touched 
the nest; a 
shred of grass 

on the door-sill has been moved half a 
hair's breadth, and nothing will induce either 
of the pair to touch it again. They find a 
new place and, with luck, build a new nest 
without being discovered ; but the cock wren 
has the mortification of hearing humans say 
that he built that deserted house all by him 
self in defiance of his wife, and call it a 
" cock nest^ 1 Cock nests are common, for 
wrens will abandon work if they even think 
they have been seen building. 

The ravens have built or repaired their 
house and the hen is sitting on her four or 
five eggs, while he forages around. He 
prefers lamb, but is quite content with a rat 
in default : so good a ratcatcher is the raven 

that were he only allowed scope for hts skill 
on the farm where rats are not wanted he 
might by his services in this direction recover 
a shred of good character. He has no more 
character now than a ticket of-leave man. 
The rookery is a chaos of theft, mendacity, 
and strife : the young and inexperienced 
couples, married, according to tradition, on 
March j8th, are bringing sticks, and the old 
hands are stealing them* These young rooks 

would gladly go 
and start nesting 
on the trees a 
cuuple of fields 
away, but that 
would not be 
tolerated for an 
hour: the old 
ones would send 
a deputation with 
instructions not 
to leave one stick 
lying on another. 
So the unfortu- 
nate young 
couples stay and 
do what stealing 
they can on their 
own account. 
The rooks do 
not sleep in the 
rookery while 
building is in 
progress, but 
adjourn by con- 
sent to distant 
trees : so the sen- 
sible rook re- 
mains after work- 
ing hours and 
steals industri- 
ously from the 
other nests. 
A few more insects make their appearance : 
the quaker moth in his grey dress and the 
virgin moth nearly as sober in his attire, 
The carrion beetle appears, and him known to 
housewives as the bacon beetle : the latter is 
domestic in his tar.tes and destructive in his 
habits : his powers of mischief are surprising 
in a creature only a quarter of an inch long. 
He loves fat bacon, but will put up with old 
boot if necessity compel : he eats corks 
for a change, but, it is only fair to say, 
without ulterior motive. The universally 
distributed and unpopular flea reaches the 
perfect stage of his imperfections late in 
February, |indjt js.said that country people 
in Kent yElBAPiy fjBfyfftice of keeping the 




2 59 

cottage door shut all 
day on March ist 
under the impression 
that this simple mea- 
sure will keep htm 
out of the house for 
twelve months* The 
active and intelligent 
earwig emerges from 
retirement with an 
invigorated appetite 
for flowers. The ear- 
wig for ages has been 
misrepresented and 
misunderstood : vve 
shall meet him, or 
his wife, later on. 

The blackbird and 
the thrush are deep 
in their domestic 
labours now : each 
species brings up two 
or three families dur- 
ing the season, so it 
behoves them to 
begin early. Both 
blackbird and thrush 

rear their children on sound utilitarian prin- 
ciples, requiring those of the first brood to 
lend assistance in tending their younger 
brothers and sisters. The cock thrush sets 
a good example by taking an occasional turn 
on the eggs when 
his wife wants to 
go out to tea, but 
the blackbird is 
less accommodat- 
ing : fighting is far 
more in his line 
than nursery- work. 
The thrush con- 
siders her nest in- 
complete without 
a nicely smoothed 
and water - tight 
lining made of 
mud. Most birds 
of her size prefer 
a bed of soft, dry 
grass, but there is , 
no accounting for 
tastes. The missel 
thrushes are nest- 
ing, too, for they 
mean to bring up 
a second family 
by -and -by. The 
missel thrush can 
take care of herself 

A KfcN T HOWbH. 

and her eggs. Even 
the magpie and jay 
think twice before try- 
ing to rob her nest 
while she or her mate 
is near. The hedge 
sparrow is sitting on 
her first clutch of 
blue eggs; the linnet 
is nesting also. All 
these early birds, save 
the missel thrush, 
who thinks the 
weather too mild, are 
singing their loudest 
and longest at this 
time, as is the skylark. 
And who shall ask us 
song-birds the reason 
of our singing, 
When all our wives are 
silting and we are 
free from care ? 
When later spring's upon 
us, paternal duties 
We have to feed ihe 
hahies and s ha 'n't 
have time to spare. 

The robins are building their nest: the 
orthodox site is some shallow hole in a bank, 
but the robin is often at pains to prove 
himself superior to family tradition. An old 
kettle tossed into the hedge, a plough boy's 

discarded boot, an 
old jam-pot, com- 
mends itself to 
him ; and having 
in mind the cha- 
racter of the robin 
one can imagine 
other birds accus- 
ing him of self- 
advertisement. If 
open windows offer 
opportunity he will 
build on a book- 
shelf, and has been 
known to take on 
lease a nook made 
between prayer- 
books and a corner 
of the book-ledge 
in a pew. He is 
always trying to 
qualify for a place 
in the " Curiosi- 
ties" page of The 

The resident 
n^l from meidow nmit or 





titlark is nesting. It is early, but perhaps the 
titlark's idea is to get the best places before 
the return of those of their relations who 
have been abroad for the winter. The early- 
nesting titlark has another advantage : she 
will hatch out her fim brood before the 
cuckoo arrives, the cuckoo being particularly 
fond of imposing upon her* 

The vixen has hid up her cubs in the 
main earth in the wood and discharges her 
maternal duties, comfortably conscious that 
hounds will not be allowed to hunt her. 
She does not welcome visitors* kind inquiries 
concerning the health of herself and family ; 
in fact, if anyone calls she takes the first 

severe pays with his life for the experiment ; 
the sand-martin, smallest of the swallow 
family and the first to return, appears to 
warn all whom it may concern that the 
swallows will soon be here bringing the 

On the coast the solan geese bethink them 
of family affairs and repair to the rock stacks 
to begin quarrelling. The solan goose or 
gannet is not a more reputable character 
than the rook ; and, as the birds nest in a 
colony, the storm of squabbling that goes on 
when building and stealing begin can be 
beard a mite away. 

The calm t deliberate snail is out carrying 

•close neighbours, 

opportunity of moving her children to a 
new nursery, and if disturbed there seeks 
other lodgings at once. 

The trout are rising now ; in other words, 
sucking in flies as they float down stream : it 
appears an insignificant action, but has been 
known to send a grave and soberly conducted 
citizen home at a rate of ten miles an hour 
to fetch his rod, to make him forget his 
meals, and inspire his wife with the convic- 
tion that he has been drowned. Down by 
the horse-pond the ducks are waking the 
echoes with joyful and noisy laughter, be- 
cause they have found the first frog spawn 
of the season. "Ha, ha, ha, haa ! Kwa, 
kwa, k\v;i ? kwa : kwah : " There is something 
suggestive of the kitchen in the unbridled 
joviality of the duck. The true spring 
migrants begin to come home during the 
latter end of March : the wheatear, who has 
nothing to do with wheat nor with ears, 
and who is almost as fond of experi- 
ments in nesting - places as the robin 
himself; the chiff-chaff, who, in spite of 
a delicate constitution, occasionally tries 
to brave an English winter, and ifj jt be 

the house in which he spent the winter r 
there is a majestic repose in the demeanour 
of the snail which suggests conscious 
superiori ty, but which is too often rudely 
disturbed. The song thrush is his great 
enemy, and the snail must regret the good 
old fifteenth-century days when man kept 
the thrush in dove-cotes and fattened him on 
pounded figs and flour for the table : snails 
might walk abroad in peace then. The little 
field-mouse is nursing her first babies of the 
season in her underground nest. The field- 
mice are too active to go to bed for five or 
six months like some of their relations : with 
greedy providence they lay up a vast store of 
acorns, beech-mast, peas, beans, and corn, and 
live in luxury; unless some intrusive pig scents 
the store, never very deeply buried, when it 
disappears to the last grain- Mrs- Field- 
mouse presents her lord with a family about 
once a month from March to September. 
Foxes, weasels, hawks, and owls love the 
grown-ups ; and the rook and the crow are 
said to dig the youngsters out of the nest 
and eat them : in fact, the supply of field- 

■^iWsfflrafflfeiliSSf deraa " d - 



The* blackcock keeps up the grand old 
knightly exercise of the tournament, but the 
character of the ceremony is somewhat 
marred, from the sentimental point of view, 
by the fact that he marries with more than 

The wood pigeons are nesting : they arc 
content with a mere platform of loose twigs 
when they build for themselves, but evi- 
dently appreciate better quarters, as they 
often take lodgings for the season in a rooks 


Moslem profusion. The tournament is held 
at dawn on some secluded spot consecrated 
to the purpose* Each male challenges all 
and sundry to fiyht : and all and sundry are 
so willing that triangular duels are common. 
While the featheis are flying, for it is no 
sham fight, the grey hens appear from th** 
surrounding bushes, and, regardless of the 
laws of chivalry, would enter the lists them- 
selves if allowed. The jousts over, beauty 
bestows its hands on the victor. 

The long-eared bat shakes off dull sloth 
by degrees, and after much sneezing and 
coughing spreads his stiff wings and smooths 
out his ears. This l*at is supposed to possess 
worse sight than others, wherefore these ears 
in compensation : to say that he can hear a 
gnat sigh is to convey but a feeble idea of 
the acuteness of his hearing. The pipistrelle 
b now making eyes at the young ladies of 
his acquaintance; it would be interesting 
to know if they use their wings as fans to 
hide their blushes. 

old nest or the forsaken drey of a squirrel. 
The grouse have Ik gun to lay : the eggs, 
yellowish white, closely blotched and mottled 
with rich chestnut and dark brown, are very 
beautiful, but the colours are not "fast" 
when the eggs are first laid, and the careless 
bird often scratches and smudges the paint 
before it dries. The nest is a disgrace : the 
merest scratching, with any odds and ends 
of dry stuff that may be lying handy scraped 
in to furnish it. The young stag drops his 
antlers now, old ones postpone doing so 
till later ; the red deer can't bear to waste 
his trophies, so he eats them, possibly as 
medicine* The stag must receive a terrible 
shock the first time he sees his discrowned 
head reflected in a pool : he is sensitive 
about his appearance, for he goes quietly 
away into secluded places where frivolous 
hinds won't see and laugh at htm. The 
roebuck's horns, which he shed at 
Christmas, are fully grown again ere 



Original from 

By G N. and A. M. Williamson. 

ITH a whirr like the beating of 
mighty wings, the giant auto 
mobile rushed through the 
night along a solitary part of 
the broad, white road between 
Paris and Chartres. Its blazing 
acetylene lights rent the darkness with a 
blinding glare ; behind it travelled a pillar of 
dust ; stones and twigs were swirled into the 
air- vortex created by its passage. (Joggled, 
masked, clothed all in black leather, Raoul 
Jul lien bent over the steering - wheel. 
Crouehed at his feet was a slighter en- 
shrouded figure (like a familiar attending a 
demon), stop-watch in hand, looking eagerly 
for the kilomfetre stones as they flickered by, 
one every forty seconds. 

Suddenly on the driver's ears there fell a 
sound which caused him to stiffen in his seat 
and slightly turn his head to listen. The 
crouching shape at his feet heard it also, for 
there was a quick lifting of the head, and 
through the round goggles that protected the 
eyes shot a questioning gleam. The sound 
became each instant more insistent; it seemed 
in Raoul's bewildered ears like a cataract with 
a heart throbbing in it. Then there was the 

loud clanging of a gong, a reverberation that 
might have been the shouting of a human 
voice. If he had daredp Raoul would have 
turned to look ; but a moment after the 
strange sounds smote upon his consciousness 
he had their explanation. There was a rush 
of air that left him gasping, a blaze of light 
that blinded, A large automobile dashed by, 
just shaving his left wheel, and leaving 
him enveloped in a swirling cloud of dust 
with which his head -lights contended as 
ineffectually as the rays of a lighthouse with 
a sea-fog. His face was stung with flying 
stones ; he could scarcely breathe ; he could 
not see a yard ahead. With a curse he threw 
out the clutch and put on the brakes. The 
great car came to a sudden stop. Far away 
was the dying murmur of the car that had 
outpaced it. Raoul strained his senses to 
listen till the throbbing beats melted into the 
silence of the night. Then he jumped 
down on to the road, whipped off his cap, 
his goggles, and his silken mask, stamped 
furiously on the ground, and shook his fist 
in the air. At that moment JullietVs hand- 
some face was not agreeable to gaze upon. 
"Why, father, you have what I call your 




Satan look," said a half-taunting voice at his 
elbow, in very melodious French. The 
malignity died out of Raoul's eyes, and 
he turned upon the speaker with a satirical 
smile. It was a tall girl who faced him — a girl 
of perhaps nineteen, in a grey, close-fitting, 
tailor-made dress that showed the beauty 
of a well-poised figure. In one leather- 
gauntleted h.nd she swung her cap and 
mask, the other still held the stop-watqh 
with which she had been timing the speed of 
the car. The night breeze sighing along the 
poplar-shaded road ruffled the rings of 
bright hair that framed her broad, low fore- 
head. Her hazel eyes looked black in the 
reflection of the acetylene lamps, the half- 
laughing curve of her red lips with an inner 
sparkle of white teeth was full of resolution, 
of recklessness, and of humour. 

" That was the English car ; you're done," 
the girl went on, half - mockingly. Then, 
with a rapid change of tone, " I'm sorry," 
she added. 

"That, as you say," came the quiet answer, 
"was the English car. I have not made 
you an expert automobilist for nothing. 
There is no French or German car whose 
motor makes a beat like that ; it is some- 
thing very new." 

" It is also something very fast," suggested 
the girl. 

" Also something very fast," assented the 
man. " So fast," he went on, slowly, " that 
if it runs in the Paris-Bordeaux race there; is 
no chance for me — for us." 

" That's what I have been thinking," re- 
plied the girl She was studying the man's 
face intently. Her gaze suggested confidence, 
admiration, and expectation. It seemed to 
say : " I know you're in a difficulty, but I am 
sure you will get out of it I am only in- 
terested in wondering what means you will 

With an ostentatious politeness the man 
motioned the girl towards the car and 
mounted again to his place. He had not 
stopped the motor, which had gone humming 
rhythmically on during the brief talk on the 
road ; now he turned the car on the broad 
highway and set her head towards Paris. He 
went at speed, perhaps at forty miles an hour 
— not the furious racing pace at which the 
car had been travelling when she was passed 
by the other. There was no need now to 
yell into his companion's ear if he wished to 
make himself heard ; they could speak in 
ordinary conversational tones. 

"This is a serious business, Diane," the 
man began. "I have told you how much 

depends on my winning this race. The prize 
is large ; I believed there was no competing 
car that could go as fast or stay as well as 
mine. If I win the race we are in clover 
again ; if I lose, it's bankruptcy at the least — 
perhaps worse things than that On this car 
I have spent all my skill, all my experience. 
With decent luck I might look upon the prize 
as in my pocket. Now comes this cursed 
Englishman with his infernal car ! It's lucky 
we saw him to-night, eh? Knowing how 
dangerous he is, we can take steps " 

" What steps?" asked the girl. 

" Wait a little ; let me think — then I'll 
tell you." 

They were at the outskirts of Paris, and 
dawn was stealing over the city, when the man 
bent down and spoke long and earnestly into 
the girl's ear. She flushed as she listened, 
then clapped her leather-gloved hands when 
she fully understood what was expected of 

" I'll do it, father," she cried, as the car 
stopped at last and swung into a large garage 
in the Avenue de la Grande Arm£e ; " you 
know I'd risk more than that for you. 
Besides, it's an adventure I shall revel in. 
I'll sleep now, and after breakfast I'll lose no 
time in getting on the war-path." 

Raoul Jullien kissed his step-daughter on 
the forehead. 

The apartment where the inventor and 
famous automobilist lived with his beautiful 
half - English step - daughter was over the 
workshop ; but when Diane peeped into his 
study between eight and nine o'clock the 
same morning he was not there. The girl 
went quickly out into the street and took an 
omnibus that led to the outskirts of the city. 
She was simply dressed in rather shabby 
black, with her masses of bright brown hair 
brushed up and hidden under a wide- 
brimmed hat. Her mended gloves, the 
worn purse she carried in her hand, the sad- 
ness of her beautiful face, from which, with 
an effort, she had chased all gaiety, gave her 
the air of a girl struggling with poverty, and 
compassion mingled with admiration in the 
looks men cast upon her. Where the 
omnibus stopped she got down, asked a 
question of a policeman, then picked her way 
towards a thoroughfare of workshops. 

As she approached a certain number she 
slackened her pace and strolled carelessly by 
the door. A notice-board with the words 
" a louer " hung by one corner. The high 
doors of the workshop were shut, but 
Diane's quick eyes saw the tracks of enor- 
mous "pneu£P n m the dust, disappearing 




under them, and she knew she had come to 
the right place. She formed a sudden re- 
solution and gave a hesitating pull at the rusty 
belL She heard it tinkle inside, then stood 
waiting with a fast-beau ng heart. There was 
a firm stop within, two heavy bolts were with- 
drawn, the large doors swung open a little 
way, and a young man stood looking at her. 

He was dressed in the blue blouse of ihe 
French mechanic, yet he was unmistakably 
English. Aged 
about twenty-six 
or seven, he was 
erect, broad 
He had clean-cut 
features, his dear 
skin was darkly 
sunburnt, and a 
pair of bright 
blue eyes looked 
out from the 
brown face with 
peculiar and plea- 
sant frankness, 

Diane's own 
father, long 
dead, had been 
English. The 
language which 
she had first 
learned to 
speak was Eng- 
lish ; but her 
mother had 
returned to 
France when 
the girl was 
nine or ten 
years old, and 
had soon after 
married Raoul 
Jullien. For 

ten years, therefore, Diane's associations had 
been wholly French. She had hern taught 
to dislike her father's countrymen, and the 
few she had chanced to meet had not been 
of an attractive type. Whether or not her 
dead father had been of finer clay, she had 
no means ot knowing, for her mother had 
died while she was still a child, and Raoul, 
who had kept her constantly with him, hated 
England and the English, 

But this Englishman in the mechanics 
blouse had a face that won her respect and 
a curious, unwilling sympathy, with the first 
glance, Diane was brave to recklessness 
herself* and she adored courage in a man, 
This man looked as if he would fear nothing. 


And his eyes were so true that it would be 
difficult not to believe all he might say. 

" Bon jour ■," he began. But Diane, whose 
mind had travelled miles in the seconds since 
their glances met, answered him in English^ 
which (as it had been the language of her 
infancy and childhood) she spoke without 
foreign accent. " Good morning," she said. 
14 You, too, are English, Can I see the 
master here ? " 

echoed the young 
man, smiling* 
"There's no 
master here, un- 
less I'm master." 
Diane was sur- 
prised. Her ad 
venture was 
likely to be more 
dramatic than 
she had fancied ; 
yet —-she wished 
that the fight 
were to be waged 
with a different 
man. However* 
there was nothing 
to do but go on 
with the pro- 
gramme as it had 
been mapped 

She let her eye- 
lids droop, and 
tottering slightly, 
caught with one 
shabbily - gloved 
hand at the door- 
post as if for 
support, m 1 beg 
your pardon/' she 
murmured, "I'm 
a little faint I— I haven't had any breakfast 
I'm looking for work. I though t, as youVe 
English here, there might he something — 
typewriting — almost anything. But I'm 
afraid— — w she paused, with a tremor in her 
voice that was not wholly feigned. 

M Please come in," the man said, eagerly. 
**This isn't a workshop. But do let me get 
you something from the at f£ close by, I shall 

be so glad. And weVe both English," 

"Yes, I trust you. And I shall be 
thankful," Diane answered With this she 
looked up, and met such a kind, pitying, and 
admiring gaze, that she dropped her eyes 
hastily, the shamed blood mounting guiltily 
to her foreheEidinal from 




The young man opened the door, and she 
passed into a large, bare workshop, with a 
partitioned space at the farther end. A 
mingled odour of oil, hot metal, and petrol 
greeted her nostrils. 

The proprietor pulled forward a chair for 
his guest "Please sit down," he begged. 
"I'll be at the cafe and back in five minutes. " 

He snatched his hat and ran out, shutting 
the door behind him. 

The instant that the sound of his steps 
died away Diane jumped up and darted to 
the partition. She was no longer drooping, 
but as keen and alert as a hunter on the trail 
Five minutes and he would be back. She 
had five minutes. 

Behind the screen stood a grfeat racing 

Its shape puzzled her. There was no 
bonnet in front covering the motor, no coiling 
radiator ; the engines seemed to be concealed 
within the body of the carriage, which was of 
dull grey aluminium. Hastily she pulled 
down the wooden front of the car, and there 
was revealed to her a motor of a new kind, 
differing entirely from the French and German 
types, with all of which she was familiar. 

Skilled as she was in mechanical con- 
trivances, she could not at once grasp the 
idea of the new machine before her; but, 
lifting out the floor of the car, she saw a 
curious* arrangement of eight horizontal 
cylinders placed in fours, crosswise, and in 
a second she realized that this meant 
the abolition of water-cooling, which neces 
sitates an apparatus cumbersome, heavy, 
and expensive. This motor was cooled by 
air ; the shafts were fixed, causing the 
cylinders to rotate in a horizontal plane. In 
thus rotating they would keep themselves 
cool by means of fan-shaped flanges cast 
upon them. There was no separate fly- 
wheel ; the cylinders formed the fly-wheel, 
thus giving compactness, great power in a 
small space, and, above all, extreme lightness. 
Of these eight cylinders, each one looked 
to Diane's practised eye as if it might 
develop about five-horse power, making forty- 
horse power altogether ; but owing to the 
lightness of the car it might successfully be 
backed against another of sixty-horse power. 

Diane's eyes brightened with admiration 
for the audacity of the invention and the 
brilliant way in which it was worked out ; 
but suddenly came the recollection that this 
very cleverness meant ruin for her step-father. 
He would assuredly — unless the Englishman 
met with some untoward accident — be beaten 
in the great race, and then — the deluge ! 

Vol. xxiii.— 34. 

The girl did not love her step-father, but 
she had grown so used to his unscrupulous 
ways that she hardly realized they were un- 
scrupulous — often dishonourable. He had 
such an amusing method of justifying him- 
self ; he was so witty, so gloriously audacious ; 
his smart twistings and turnings of fortune to 
suit his own ends had afforded so much sport 
to them both in their eventful life. Besides, 
Diane believed (Raoul had impressed it upon 
her often enough) that she was penniless and 
owed everything to her step-father's generosity. 
And one of her virtues was a capacity for 
passionate gratitude. 

This poor English inventor, so clever, so 
young ! What a pity it was ! How she hated 

herself ! And yet— and yet Oh, when 

Raoul knew what a rival he had he would 
surely set some strange scheme on foot. 

Into the midst of her reflections came a 
distant sound, or she imagined it. With 
lightning speed and deftness she replaced 
the floor, closed the car, flew back to her 
chair, and had dropped into it just as her 
unsuspecting host awkwardly opened the 
door, bearing in one hand a tray with a 
steaming coffee-pot, fresh rolls, and crisp 
curls of yellow butter. 

That he was unsuspecting was the cruel 
part. Diane liked fighting ; but the fight 
must be fair and above-board. She tried to 
salve her conscience as she played at eating 
the Englishman's food by telling herself that, 
after all, she was doing him no great harm. 
She would merely report what she had seen 
to Raoul. What he would then think fit to 
do she did not know, and she was not respon- 
sible ; but her sophistries, worked out under 
those honest eyes, brought no consolation. 

He trusted her, this Sidney Armstrong. 
He told her things about himself, and even 
confided to her that he had a motor-car which 
he had entered for the great race to-morrow 
morning. To win meant everything to him — 
just as it did to Raoul Jullien ; yet instinc- 
tively she knew that this man would sooner 
lose the race, and his life too, than win by 
means which were dishonourable. He asked 
questions concerning herself, which she 
answered with lies that choked her ; and he 
was eager to help. Were they not both 
young, both English ? Was she not a girl 
alone ? And what was a countryman in a 
strange land for, if not to help? 

But Diane made excuses ; said that she 
had an address or two at which to call. She 
was much better now and could go on. But 
she wished him luck, and — perhaps — she 
would let him know by-and-by how she fared. 




Then, somehow, she got away ; and the 
warm, cordial pressure of his hand set her 
nerves tingling. 

As Diane reached home she met the post- 
man at the door, just in time to take in a 
letter addressed in a business-like hand. It 
was a rare thing for her to receive a letter, as 
she had no friends ; but before opening it 
she inquired of their one servant if M. Jullien 
were in. He had been obliged to go out for 
a little while, said 
the woman, but 
had left word 
that he particu- 
larly wanted to 
see mademoi- 
selle, and would 
soon be back. 
Then Diane 
opened the 
letter. It was 
from a firm 
of solicitors in 
London. She 
read it once, 
twice, then 


again, still 
scarcely under- 
standing what 
it meant t un- 
able to realize 
all that was in- 
volved in these 
formal words : 
14 The annual 
made to her 
for the last ten 
years by her 
uncle in Eng- 
land would in 
future be in- 
creased from 
twelve thousand five hundred francs to twenty^ 
five thousand francs per annum, owing to the 
death of a cousin, whose share would now 
go to her." Why, she had received no 
allowance, she did not even know she had 
an English uncle ! She had always imagined 
herself penniless, supported out of kindness 
of heart by her step-father. What, then, had 
become of all this money that was hers — 
this one hundred and twenty- five thousand 
francs? A hot flush mounted to her fore- 
head as the truth forced itself into 

At that instant the door opened, 
Raoul, the dehonmiirt % the easy-going, 
scrupulous schemer, came ^'fyi^Qolc 

41 Has Denis been here?" he asked, 
brightly, looking round the room. " Ah, I 
see he hasn't. I called to see him, missed 
him, left word for him to come on here, 
and thought that he might have arrived 
before me." 

11 Denis ! " exclaimed the girl. H What do 
you want with Denis? He is a horrible 
man, 3 ' 

"Oh, Denis is not such a bad fellow. 

But why is my 
little step- 
daughter so 
tragic to-day ? 
What is that 
paper in your 
hand ? * 

Silently she 
handed hi m 
the letter. His 
dark eyes com- 
prehended its 
purport in a 
flash, and, 
when he 
looked up at 
her, she read 
guilt in his 

" It is true, 
then?" she 
said, coldly. 
"You have 
taken m v 
money and 
spent it all 
these years, 
making me be- 
lieve that I was 
dependent on 
you. You have 
intercepted my 

letters " 

I not the right ? " broke in RaouL 

not your guardian ? Have I not 

you, clothed you, fed you? But 

of this later, and I can explain 


"Am I 

let us talk 




everything. The urgent question is : What 
have you found out about the English 
car?" He had changed again 

" Everything. You have 
against it. It is an air-cooled 
new in design. It is both 
light/* Raoul looked black. 

to his usual 

no chance 
motor, quite 
powerful and 
"Now I have 
done my part of the business, you must keep 
your promise and tell me what are your 
plans. What do you mean to do? * 

"To dbVlQllMJftffttiaH her stepfather, 




innocently. "Why, what can be done? 
Make the best fight possible, I suppose ; and, 
if I'm beaten, take it as well as I can." 

Diane knew that he was not speaking 
the truth. There was challenge in his eyes. 
He realized that everything was changed 
between his step-daughter and himself. She 
had found him out, and would trust him no 
longer. Therefore he would not trust her. 
Whatever plans he had in his mind he would 
carry out alone. Each understood this, 
though no word was spoken. Hitherto 
Diane had believed that, however Raoul 
might behave to others, to her he was loyal. 
From this belief she had been rudely 
awakened, and she began to look with 
new eyes on the schemer with whose fate 
the chances of life had linked her own. 
She was sure that some plot was being 
hatched by Jullien against the young English 
inventor, and already she hated herself for 
the ready acquiescence with which, for the 
sake of " adventure," she had consented to 
play the spy. The man Denis, whom Raoul 
sometimes employed in shady transactions, 
was her special detestation. She resolved to 
watch, and if possible frustrate any under- 
hand scheme the two might set on foot. 

As the day wore on Diane's strong nerves 
were keyed almost to the breaking point. 
Raoul avoided her, spending all his time in 
the garage superintending the mechanics 
who were preparing his great automobile for 
the early morning start in the morrow's 
momentous race. Once, when Diane had 
restlessly followed her step-father to the work- 
shop, she saw the stealthy-footed Denis come 
in, draw him apart, and talk with him in 
whispers, then glide out again. Raoul dined 
at his usual restaurant ; Diane ate at home 
alone. The start of the race was at 2.30 
in the morning, and competitors had to be 
at their places, for the examination of papers, 
half an hour beforehand. It took half an 
hour to reach Ville d'Avray through the 
crowded traffic of cycles, carriages, cabs, 
and motor-cars ; and the girl knew that her 
step-father would start about half-past one 

He had promised to take her with him to 
the starting-point, where he would be joined 
by the mechanic who was to accompany him 
to Bordeaux ; but since their conversation of 
the morning he had not mentioned this 
again, and she supposed that he now wished 
h^*r to remain at home. 

Towards eleven o'clock at night Diane 
was fully dressed in her room when she 
heard her step-father come upstairs. I He 

moved softly about in the hall — seemed to 
approach her door and listen, then went to 
the salon. She noticed that he left the outer 
door of the flat unfastened, and ten minutes 
later there came another step on the stair- 
case. She recognised the thin voice of 
Denis. Raoul called him in ; the door of 
the salon was closed with a bang. Diane 
reasoned that whatever plot was afoot against 
the Englishman was now probably ripe for 
execution, and her heart knocked against 
her side.. It took but a few moments to 
persuade herself that if it were lawful to play 
the spy upon an innocent man in the morn- 
ing it was certainly lawful to do the same by 
two conspirators at night, and accordingly 
she stole on tiptoe to the door of her room. 
It was locked ! At the instant of this 
discovery it flashed into Diane's mind that 
there was still a way by which she could over- 
hear what her step-father and Denis were 
saying. She crept to the window of her 
room, pushed open the wooden sun-blinds, 
and peeped out. A stream of light issued 
from the salon window. Some 3ft. below 
her was a cornice of stone, perhaps ioin. 
broad, which ran along the house. As a 
daring child she had more than once made 
the passage from one room to another along 
this perilous way, and her nerve was not less 
steady now. True, if she slipped, there was 
a fall of 60ft. into the dark courtyard below ; 
but she did not mean to fall. She pulled off 
her little high-heeled shoes, lowered herself 
on to the ledge, and, with her face to the 
wall of the house, her open hands pressed 
against it for support, moved cautiously along 
the narrow ledge. When she reached the 
salon window she crouched down, holding 
on by the half-open persienne^ and peered in 
between its lattices. 

Her step-father and Denis were standing 
up, facing each other under the circle of light 
thrown from the hanging-lamp, a scar across 
Denis's cheek standing out vividly like a 
scarlet thread. 

" No need for that," Raoul was saying. 
" A strong sleeping-draught will keep him 
quiet for the next twelve hours, and is all 
that's necessary. Your plan for getting in 
is good. We can disable the car also by 
taking away the sparking - plugs. Come ; 
there is no time to lose." 

They each took a fine champagne from a 
carafe on the table, Raoul lowered the lamp, 
and they went out. As the salon door closed 
Diane heard the lock click, and realized that 
she was to be kept a prisoner till all danger 
of her intervention was past. 





It was dark and very still in the large bare 
workshop Sidney Armstrong had rented, 
The vague roar of traffic came muffled from 
the street, and the insistent voices of hawkers 
crying newspapers rose above the other 

The young Englishman lay motionless 
upon his back, his head pillowed on a block 
of wood. His breathing was deep and regular. 
At last he opened his eyes, but the lids closed 
heavily, and he was still for half an hour 
more. Then his eyes opened again and he 
lay staring up into the darkness. He could 
not remember where he was. His brain was 
acting confusedly and great billows of vapour 
seemed to be rolling over him. He tried to 
think, but could not piece things together 
consecutively. He wondered what time it 
was, and, with an effort, felt for the match- 
box in his pocket, struek a light, and looked 
at his watch. It had stopped at two o'clock. 
But two o'clock when / What day was 
this? -Then suddenly, as with a lightning 
flash, all became clear : this was the day of 
the great race I His heart gave a bound and 
he struggled to his feet, feeling unaccountably 
weak and shattered. He remembered now 
that he had determined not to leave his car 
last night, but to stay by it, and have supper 
sent in from the adjacent caft* The supper 
had come, brought by a strange waiter whose 
face he did not know, a loquacious fellow 
with a red scar across his cheek, who stood 

Digitized by GOOgle 

talking to him as he ate and drank. There 
was a bottle of beer, which the waiter opened 
and poured out, He was thirsty, and drank 
a glass right off. Then things had seemed 
blurred and dim, the waiter's face had grown 
larger and larger ; and he was laughing 
hideously. After that Armstrong remem- 
bered nothing. 

Two o'clock ! His watch had stopped at 
two. Why, the start for the race was at half- 
past two, away at Ville d'Avray. He had 
overslept himself; he could not get then? in 
time ; he was ruined * 

Instinctively he turned his head to the 
partitioned space behind which he kept the 
car hidden from prying eyes* The doors 
were open ; the car was gone ! Armstrong 
reeled as though he had been struck on the 
head- The thing which had happened 
seemed so monstrous that his mind refused 
to believe it. For an instant he imagined 
that he must be the victim of a delusion. 

As he stood thus, overwhelmed, there came 
the hoarse cry of a hawker from the street 
outside, " Le Vela, Le Vifo — result of the 
Paris Bordeaux race." Armstrong stamped 
his foot on the ground to make sure that he 
was awake, and not the prey of some spell 
of magic. The race over? Impossible! 
He felt that he must go mad if he did not 
rend the mystery which was stifling him. 
He hurried, unsteadily, to the outer door 
and looked into the street. The lamps were 




Kghted It was dark. He beckoned the 
man who had a bundle of newspapers under 
his arm, asked for Le VeIo y and demanded 
the time. " Getting on for ten o'clock," said 
the fellow, putting the sheet into his hand 
and hurrying away. 

Armstrong leaned against the doorpost of 
his workshop and looked at the paper. 
Again there swept over him the same over- 
whelming sense of unreality as his eyes took 
in these words in large type on the front 
page : " Paris - Bordeaux — Victory for the 
English Car — Armstrong, the English 
Inventor, Breaks the Record on his Air- 
Cooled Motor — Full Description of the 
Great Race — Scenes on the Road, by Our 
Special Correspondents." 

The Englishman passed a hand over his 
forehead and read on : " Paris-Bordeaux this 
year has resulted in an overwhelming victory 
for the dark horse — the English car. French 
automobilists have been humiliated — crushed : 
it is the only word to use. Everyone is 
stupefied. After the previous performances 
of English cars little attention was paid to 
the one English automobile entered for this 
year's race, though a rumour somehow crept 
out that the car was a very powerful one. The 
young English inventor (to whom, though 
he has humbled our national pride, all 
honour must be given) arranged for us a 
series of dramatic surprises. He was almost 
late at the starting-point. The officials of 
A.C.F. had thrice called his name, without 
reply, when there was a wave of excitement 
among the spectators, and the great car came 
tearing to the starting-point. - Its novel shape 
caused intense astonishment. The inventor, 
Sidney Armstrong, is young and extremely 
slight. He wore his goggles and mask, so 
that his face could scarcely be seen ; but 
many spectators said that so frail-looking a 
chauffeur would never be able to stand the 
terrific strain of the race to Bordeaux. 
Contrary to universal practice, Armstrong was 
unaccompanied by a mecanicien. His papers 
were in due order. The French favourite, 
Raoul Jullien, who started second, had 
departed, amid loud cheering, before the 
English car, which started eighteenth, had 
come upon the scene. When the judge gave 
the word 'Go' there was a cry of astonish- 
ment at the marvellous way in which the 
English automobile bounded forward, and 
the spectators lining the road beyond 
the railway - bridge said that the car had 
scarcely come into view at the bottom of 
the hill before it was out of sight at the 
top. It makes a strange whirring noise, 

different to the sound of any French auto- 

Then followed a minute account of every 
phase of the race, sent by correspondents 
stationed along the route. Everywhere there 
was unbounded surprise when the English 
car was seen to be going faster than all the 
others, overhauling them and passing them 
one by one. " Between Chatellerault and 
Poitiers Armstrong was gaining rapidly on 
the leading French car driven by Raoul 
Jullien. Here there was a sensational inci- 
dent. Jullien, not dreaming that any other 
car could overtake him, was holding the 
centre of the road and going at great speed. 
Suddenly his mecanicien drew his attention 
to the fact that the English car was gaining 
on him. At the sound of the loud clanging 
of the gong on the English car just behind 
him the intrepid Jullien seemed to lose his 
nerve. He looked over his shoulder, which 
was, of course, an act of madness. His car 
swerved, and just as Armstrong came along- 
side him Jullien's car ran off the road and 
overturned in a broad ditch. Jullien and 
his mtcanicien were sent flying, and the 
spectators thought they must certainly be 
killed. Seeing what had happened, the 
Englishman stopped his car within a few 
yards and ran to the help of the French 
champion, who was lying motionless. Arm- 
strong showed great agitation at the unhappy 
accident ; but when a local doctor who had 
been among the spectators assured him after 
a hasty examination that there were no bones 
broken, and that Jullien was merely stunned 
by his fall, the young Englishman ran to his 
car, started again amid the cheers of the 
bystanders (touched by his obvious feeling 
at the distressing incident), and in a few 
moments was out of sight." Finally there 
was an account of his triumphal entry into 
Bordeaux far in advance of any other com- 
peting cars, and in fifty-five minutes less than 
the time in which Fournier had accomplished 
the distance. 

Armstrong read these details like a man 
dazed. It was as unreal as if a mesmerist 
had hypnotized him, and he wondered 
vaguely when all this was going to end and 
he was to enter again into real life — the real 
life where miracles do not happen. Then a 
sound smote on his ears. It was like familiar 
music to his bewildered senses. He looked 
up. Along the crowded street came speeding 
a great racing-car, the people separating to 
give it a clear course. It slackened pace 
opposite to him, turned in a graceful curve, 
and ran gently past him into the work- 




shop. It was his own car, its aluminium 
body yellow now with dust; and from the 
chair-seat there sprang a slight figure, 
clothed in the black leather knickerbockers 
and black leather coat of a chauffeur. 
One movement of a little gauntleted hand 

Armstrong thought himself still dreaming. 
Yet it was she, more beautiful than in the 
hour which had only seemed long because 
he had fallen fathoms deep in love as its 
sixty minutes passed. 

He stared at the vision, and as he stared 


and the disfiguring mask, the large, close- 
futing cap, were plucked off, and down 
tumbled a mass of bright brown hair which 
had been tucked underneath the cap. 

Dressed in his own leather clothes, which 
had lain ready for him to wear, with his 
papers in the pockets (he had not even 
noticed their loss), stood the girl to whom 
he had given shelter and food yesterday 
morning — or was it years 

ago? And Sid 


the vision broke into tears. In his dream 
she sobbed and laughed, and explained 
strange things, hardly seeming to know in 
her excitement that he had caught her out- 
stretched hands and was holding them 
tightly — so tightly that the pressure must 
have hurt. 

In the dream she was begging him to for- 
give her and some man who had injured him 
—to foruive the ms.11 for ':er sake, and forgive 




her because she had won the race for him to 
make up for some sin which he did not even 
know that she had committed. And she was 
telling how she had been locked 11 1> in a house 
somewhere, and had cut a hole in the panel 
of the door with a knife : how she had heard 
of a plot to drug him so that he would sleep 
until the great race was run, and to disable 
the ear, also, lest by any chance he should 
recover too soon. 

"1 had to make up to you somehow," she 
sobbed, still in the dream, " I thought it all 
out— what I should do. I took sparking- 
plugs from his workshop, for I knew he 
would have stolen yours. It was midnight 
when I got away and came to your place. I 
had to get in, so I climbed through that 
little window up there. You were lying in- 
sensible on the floor, looking like death, 
but I was sure you were not dead — that 
you would wake up, well enough, when it 
was too late. So I did 
what I could for you in a 
moment or two to make 
you comfortable, and then 
turned to the car, 
That was what you 
would wish most. 
Afterwards — oh> 1 
hardly know what 
happened — I am 
dazed stilL There was 
only one thing to do 
if your car was to have 
its chance, These 
clothes— I had to put 
them on, and be you. 
The race ! Why, it 
sterns to me now as 
I look back like a 

flickering picture in a cinematograph. X 
think it will never be clearer in my mind. 
I'd only ten minutes in Bordeaux — I wouldn't 
stay ; for, you see, I had to come back and 
tell you —everything. You would be break- 
ing your heart with anxiety, and, after doing 
my best to ruin you, I owed you that. No- 
thing they could say would stop me, and I 
came back by a different road, not to be 
delayed, for each moment would be an hour 
to you. Here I am at last — at last ! And 
your car has won. I've done my best to 
atone. Can you forgive me ? * 

*' Forgive— you I " he echoed. "When I 
owe you everything? When you've won the 
race, and half killed yourself — for me ? 
You're not a woman —you're a goddess \ I 

ought to be on my knees to you fi 

" No ! If you let me go I shall fall," she 
laughed and cried together, clinging to him. 
" I'm weak and broken, but so happy !" 

11 1 worship you 1 " 
t "I know. Your 

*7es said it. That's 
why I'm happy, And 
I've won the race, 

** You've won me 
— every fibre of me. 
Don't be angry. Just 
because I'd never seen 
you till yesterday, you 

think, perhaps- T% 

u Oh, it's a lifetime 
since yesterday." 

"And Fve known 
you always," 

Sidney Armstrong 
was no longer dream- 
ing. His happiness 
was real. 


by Google 

Original from 

The Inter- Varsity Sports ; and Some Records. 

By C. B. Fry. 

From Photographs by Stcarn y Cambridge. 

HE annual contest in track- 
athletics between Oxford and 
Cambridge is distinguished 
from the generality, of such 
meetings, indeed from practi- 
cally all our first-class meetings, 
in that its main idea is not man against man 
but team against team. The point at issue 
being whether Light or Dark Blue is to 
succeed in gaining first place in the greater 
number of " events," each of the various 
competitions included in the programme has 
a double interest, first for its own sake and 
then for its bearing upon the collective 
result ; a race once over is not straightway 
done with, for not until either side has won 
more than half the total number of " events " 
is the question of victory decided. Thus the 
Inter- 1 Varsity Sports are invested with a 
thorough-going unity and a sustained plot- 
interest, both of which are wanting, for 
instance, in the Amateur Championships, 
where each race is independent and, beyond 
the accident of being held on the same after- 
noon, has no relation to the rest. This 
collective character, however, so far from 
diminishing the interest of each particular 
event, rather increases it by investing the 
part with the importance of the whole. 
Then, over and above, there remains the 
personal interest in the style and achieve- 
ments of the individual athlete, and the 
subsidiary interest in the performances that 
stand out as " best on record." 

The features of the sports and their place 
in the world of athletics may perhaps be 
suggested by a review of the ten "events" 
of which they are composed, together with 
some mention of the prominent feats and 

The hundred yards race makes a good 
introduction to the sports. In anticipation 
the race is always exciting, because none, 
even of the cognoscenti^ with full information 
about previous performances, can surely pick 
the winner. Times recorded for sprints in 
trial races are notoriously deceptive, because 
watches and time-keepers, to Lay nothing of 
conditions such as tracks, wind, and weather, 
differ considerably. 

Since, too, the race run all fair is usually 
decided by a narrow margin, often by a few 
inches, seldom by more than a couple of feet, 

a slight mistake at the start or in the running 
may retard the fastest man enough to lose 
him the race. For instance, not many years 
ago one of the Cambridge sprinters, who on 
form had a fine chance of winning, was easily 
beaten because during the race he was thrown 
out for a stride or two by treading on the tag 
of a careless shoelace. And again, an 
Oxford man leading his field by a clear foot 
within some twenty yards of the finish, where 
he could not well have been caught, foolishly 
turned his head for a nervous glimpse of the 
other runners, and therein not only lost his 
lead but was clean passed by two of his 
rivals. One Old Blue declares he lost the 
hundred purely because he allowed his mind 
to wander for one flash of time from the 
supreme idea of reaching the tape ; in 
wondering where his colleague was the relaxa- 
tion of his mind from the intense effort of 
full speed seemed to ungear his pace just 
enough to allow the second string, who as a 
matter of fact was running level with him, to 
forge the necessary inches ahead. 

No wonder the sprinters feel that hollow, 
lonely sensation as they wait before the fire 
in the long dressing-room at Queen's Club 
for the steward to call them out An anxious 
man is the sprinter before the race. He 
feels a trifle better as he emerges from the 
barrier and takes his preliminary trot round 
the starting - post. There he finds Mr. 
Wilkinson, the Sheffield professional starter, 
who always officiates at these meetings, wait- 
ing serenely with loaded pistol. Such a 
pistol, too ! Stubby barrel, muzzle-loading, 
about ten bore, rammed brimful of black 
powder. Wilkinson will have none of new- 
fangled revolvers ; he prefers his old-fashioned 
little cannon, with its copper caps, which 
"never misses fire and makes a noise." He 
is an adept at starting sprint-races — a ticklish 
job, because, if the highly-strung nerves of 
the runners are flurried, there is sure to be 
trouble with contagious unsteadiness on the 
mark and false starts. In the Inter-' Varsity 
Sports there is no such thing as enforcing the 
rigour of the A.A.A. law which puts back a 
yard the man who makes a false start. But 
Wilkinson will not let the runners go till he 
has them rigidly steady. Usually, he secures 
this immediately. The moment the four 
" strings " arrive and begin to strip he informs 




them, with a brief geniality suggestive of his 
desire that all four may win, that he will tell 
theni to get on their marks and will fire when 
he sees them steady. Bang ! And almost 
before the reverberation dies away the 
worsted is broken. There is a momentary 
comparison of opinions by the judges, and 
then the little flag, dark or light blue as the 
case may be, is run up to the head of the 
white mast in front of the pavilion, and the 
gentleman at the megaphone informs the 
assembly of all the details of the race, who 
has won, by how much, and in what time. 

A good average time for the in ter-' Varsity 
hundred yards is m^th sec, nnd only now 
and again is the race run faster. The inter- 
1 Varsity record is losec, or, as it is called, 
level time; it dates back to the early 
seventies and is shared by three Oxford 
men— J. P. Ten nan t, J. H. Wilson, and G. 
H. Urmson, This equals the British amateur 
record standing to the credit of Wharton, 
Bradley, Downer, DufFey, and several 
others, but is 
not accepted as 
such on the 
books of the 
A. A, A, Many 
Old Blues con- 
sider Montagu 
Shearman as 
fast as any 
sprinter who 
has yet run for 
either 'Varsity : 
his time was 
IO 1 -5th sec. 
More recently, 
C. J. B. Mony- 
penny, of Cam- 
bridge, and A. 

and G. Jor- 
dan, of Ox- 
ford, showed 
a high degree 
of pace, but 
none of them 
were particu- 
larly smart 
travelled mar- 
vellously fast 
in the last 
thirty or forty 
yards, but, 
slow at get- 
ting up his 
speed, spoilt his time at the beginning of 
the race* Both Jordan and Mony penny 
were comparatively better at 120 or 150 
yards. The latter, indeed, equalled the 
British amateur record of 14 4-5 th sec. 
for 150 yards, a splendid time. Last 
year the Cambridge sprinter, A, Ii, Hind, 
was timed on the Fenners track as having 
run the hundred in 9 45th sec. He did 
not, however, at Queen s Club succeed in 
app reaching this phenomenal performance ; 
but the track then was a trifle heavy and 
there was an appreciable head wind. Possibly 
he was capable of even time, but 9 4*5th sec. 
appears rather too good, since it means 
that Hind would have beaten Bradley and 
Downer on their championship form by 
about two yards, A recent Oxford sprinter, 
C. R* Thomas, achieved level time 
on the Iffley Road track, Judging partly 
by the times and partly by reminiscent 
inspection, I doubt whether more than 
a few 'Varsity sprinters, at any rate accord- 

Vol. x*iii.-3S 





ing to their running in the Oxford and 
Cambridge Sports, have been quite up to 
championship form. Still, it must not be 
forgotten that the Inter-' Varsity Sports are 
held in the early spring, when the track is 
usually not dry and when the weather is cold 
and bleak, whereas the championship is held 
in the summer, usually under more favour- 
able conditions* Another point to remember 
is that some of the best 'Varsity sprinters 
have blunted the extra fine edge of their 
speed by training far the quarter-mile. There 
is no doubt, too, that 'Varsity sprinters would 
make better times if they paid as much atten- 
tion as the Americans to perfecting thern^ 
selves in the art of starting. 

mate art in fencing; though perhaps it yields 
to the quarter- mile in dramatic excitement, is 
generally regarded as die prettiest of all the 
events, To run 120 yards in 12 2-5th sec on 
the flat is a fair performance, yet A, C. 
Kranzlein, the famous American hurdler, 
who holds the world's record, has run 
that distance over hurdles in 15 25th sec. 
The mechanical precision with which an 
adept hurdler takes three strides of 
equal length in between his obstacles, 
and slithers over the hurdle in his fourth, 
covering about 12ft. from rise to fall, is 
strikingly beautiful A- B. Loder, W. R, 
Pollock, and \V« G, Paget-Tomlinson, all of 
then; Can tabs, hold the inter- 1 Varsity record 


On one count the hurdle race is par 
excellence the University event. Hurdlings 
for some inexplicable reason, has never been 
much practised anywhere except at Oxford 
and Cambridge. In years gone by it was 
fairly popular in the Nottingham district; 
and the Loudon and provincial clubs have 
produced here and there an exceptionally 
fine hurdler, but none of them can show 
consistent quality in this branch of athletics. 
The high standard maintained by the 
'Varsities is remarkable ; indeed, it is not an 
exaggeration to say that, with scarcely 
an exception, the inter -'Varsity winner 
has been absolutely first-class, and it may be 
added that the second man has often been 
so too. And not long ago li. A, Parkes, 
who ran third at Queen's Club, actually won 
the championship. 

The sprinters 1 steeplechase, requiring a 
strong turn of speed combined with consum- 

of i6sec, a time exactly equal to the amateur 
record that stood for many years, until first 
Godfrey Shaw and then Kranzlein knocked 
it out. It must be remarked that as the 
inter- 1 Varsity hurdles have often been run 
on turf heavy with rain, some of the com- 
paratively moderate times have actually been 
notable achievements, Paget - Tomlinson 
stripped a light-weight sprinter rather above 
middle height and finely proportioned- He 
had great speed between the hurdles, an 
elastic style in fencing, and a light foot. E. 'l\ 
Gamier, who won three times and numbered 
Paget -Tomlinson among his conquered, was 
not nearly as fast between his hurdles, but 
cleared them so low and so completely with- 
out hang that he gained in the air what he 
lost on tlie flat. It is curious to note that 
his father, E. S, Gamier, won in 1871, and 
his younger ©rild|#JT£l(frdtTi Gamier, in 1901, 

The wmw$f i <PwiQm& to p rovide 


sustained suspense and run at a pace suffi- 
cient to stimulate intense excitement, is a 
most popular race. From the athlete's point 
of view it has the doubtful interest of 
being the most exacting of all races. And 
often, to add to the dramatic feeling, it 
happens that the dread quarter is the turning- 
point of the sports. The skilled observer 
watches the race 
keenly, for, as it 
h a p pens, the 
Queen's Club 
course for this race 
involves two sharp 
corners, so sharp 
as to be almost 
hazards ; much 
may happen at 
either of them, and 
luck or judgment 
in negotiating them 
has often decided 
the race j it is quite 
easy to get jammed 
at either, or to be 
thrown on to an 
outside berth, and 
thus lose an irre- 
coverable yard or 
two, I have heard 
an old winner de- 
clare that the best 
tactics are to lead 
round both corners, 
which is easier 

said than done. Preconcerted plans for this 
race often "gang agley " : the second string 
is afflicted with nice problems of how and 
when to get out of the way. One way and 
another the quarter is three races in one — 
a race for the first corner, a race for the 
second, and then a race for the tape. 

The 'Varsities are deservedly proud of 
their quarter milers and these runners proud 
of their race. In cases when, as often 
happens, the same man is first string both in 
the hundred and in the quarter, his heart 
yearns rather for success in the latter. The 
history of the race is full of great struggles, 
and the times recorded have been consistently 
good ever since R, H, Macaulay in 1S80 
scored the first of his three successive wins 
for Cambridge. C J. B. Mony penny in 1892 
was the first to bring the time below josec. 
— he won by eight yards and in 49 4- 5th sec. 
But this record was lowered yet another 
1 -5th sec. by another Cantab, \l\ Fitzherbert, 
in the second of his four duels with G. Jordan, 
in which each man won twice. Jordan in 


his second win equalled Mony penny's time. 
These three cracks differed in style, Mony- 
penny, a lean;, greyhound man, very light of 
iimb, lilting his feet only a little from the 
ground, ran persistent and level, as though 
strung on a wire ; he was a machine with 
multiplying gear in his action, so regular, 
smooth, and unflagging was the repetition of 

his long stride, 
Jordan^ built some- 
what like him but 
on bigger lines and 
more muscular, ran 
with a higher knee 
action, a fine, free 
stepper with fire 
and devil in his 
stride, making 
great play with his 
ankles and alight- 
ing each time on 
the very ball of his 
toe. It was a fine 
sight to see him 
about forty yards 
from home arch 
his eyebrows, set 
his teeth, and 
gather himself with 
a tigerish tug to 
his supreme effort, 
Fitzherbert, very 
tall, and long of 
limb, swallowed 
up the track with 
a huge, lunging stride, little knee action 
or ankle play, but tremendous reach and 
power. He swayed just a trifle from side to 
side, like an American pacer ; and sometimes 
at the end of the race the sway increased 
into a roll, but it was just then that his stride 
grew longer than ever. The power of his 
style saved it on the verge of ungainliness 
and made it pleasing to the eye- His races 
with Jordan, strong wine of athletic strife, 
were the finest things 1 have ever seen on a 
running track. Fitzherbert won the cham- 
pionship with 49 3-5 th sec. in 1895, beating 
both E. C Bred in and Jordan. Jordan ran 
the race in America in what is described as 
"a hair over 49." Rut the fastest of all 
'Varsity quarter-milers, though he did not 
make his best time until after he had gone 
down, was II. C. L. Tindall, who still shares 
with E, C Bredin the British amateur record 
of 48^ sec. 

As to the half-mile, its distinguishing charac- 
teristic is hs late introduction into the Oxford 

^tifft^^tiF^MPa u is 5trange 




indeed that the race should not have been 
included until four years ago* Admittedly a 
fine race, the distance, besides being the com- 
mon meeting-ground of the (juarter-miler who 
is a good stayer and of the long-distance man 
who can go fast, brings out a distinct class 
of runner. In past years there have been 
many men at Oxford and Cambridge who 
would have gained their full Blues for the 
half, yet have had to content themselves 
with being second strings in the quarter and 
the mile. Nothing phenomenal has yet 
happened in the race at Queen's Club ; the 
fastest time recorded in its brief history 
was done by FT E. Graham, of Cambridge, 
in 1900 — imin, 
58 35th sec. Hut 
the finest half-miter 
of 'Varsity fame 
ran before the 
event was included 
in the programme ; 
this was F\ J. K. 
Cross, who in 1888 
ran the distance at 
Oxford in imin, 
54 3-51*1 sec + , a 
magnificent time 
that stands to this 
day as the British 
amateur record. 
Cross ran in mas- 
terful style, com- 
bining consum- 
mate grace and 
strength in his 
long, low; sweeping 
action. The pace 
at which he could 

ply the stride of a middle- 
distance man made him for- 
midable even at too yards; at 
a quarter-mile he was excep- 
tional, actually on one occa- 
sion running the distance in 
49 4-5 th sec. ; the mile he won 
for Oxford four times, making 
a fast time on each occasion 
and breaking the previous 
record in his final victory in 
1889, F, S. Horan also, the 
great Cambridge three mi ler, 
and W. E, Lutyens, the miler, 
were both first-class at the half; 
while H.YV, Workman, another 
Cambridge three-miler, proved 
himself capable of running the 
half in imin. 54 45th sec. at 
Montreal, when the combined 
Oxford and Cambridge team met the Canadian 
Universities, McGill and Toronto, last year, 
With such men in view, it is impossible not 
to regret that the half-mile was not included 
from the beginning in the inter-' Varsity 

In the two long-distance races, the mile 
and the three miles, the peculiar characteristic 
of the Inter- 5 Varsity Sports as a match between 
team and team is clearly brought out. Here 
is seen the self-denying duly of the pace- 
maker, Six men take part in each of these 
racL-s, but, allowing for occasional disturb- 
ances of the normal, only two of them run to 
win; the rest provide their first strings with 




a register of the pace. Each champion 
desires to run the whole distance at the 
highest uniform puce of" which he is capable ; 
lie must, of course, in the actual race depend 
to a large extent upon circumstances and his 
own judgment, but he finds it useful to have 
with him a prepared pace-maker* During 
training, therefore, the second and third 
strings are taught, by dint of numerous 
rehearsals, to run certain parts of the 
distance at a pace exactly 
suited to the requirements 
of the first string, in the 
hope that on the day of the 
race he may thus be pre- 
vented from running the 
body of the race either too 
fast or too slow, and may 
be kept fancy-free and un- 
worried for the final struggle 
home. Of course, a pace- 
maker, after having fulfilled 
his duty in running his third 
or two-thirds of the distance 
at the exact pace prescribed, 
is at liberty to continue the 
race as he chooses and take 
what place he can, provided 
he in noway interferes with 
the chances of his own as 
against the opposing first 
string. Roughly speaking, 
pace-making comes to this, 
that the extra men have to run a certain part 
of the race faster than they would naturally run 
it if they were running in their interests alone, 
in order to facilitate the progress of the man 
picked out to win for his side. The necessity 
for pace-making explains why the men who 
come in second and third in the trial sports 
at Oxford and Cambridge are sometimes not 
chosen to be second and third strings in the 
inter-' Varsity contest ; for it does not follow 
that the men who are second or third best 
over the whole distance are the best to run 
one or two- thirds of the distance at a given 
pace. It is often remarked how small a part 
of the field actually finishes in the long 
distances; but, of course, the pace-makers 
often stop, not because they could not finish, 
but because their task is done. 

The mile at one time was almost a 
monopoly for Oxford, for the Dark Blues 
won twenty-one times in the first twenty- 
eight years; but in the last ten years 
Cambridge has scored nine wins in this 
event Between them the 'Varsities can 
boast a fine tale of milers. During the first 
twenty years of the contest the recorded 

time*, it is true, were only on four occasions 
below 4mm. 3o„sec, but since then they have 
been only twice above it, C> K H< Pratt, of 
Oxford, in scoring a narrow win in 1884, set 
the record at 4min, 26 2* 5th sec., but five 
years later 1\ J, K, Cross, in the fourth of 
his easy wins, lowered this by 2 4-5111 sea 
The very next year \V. Pollock- Hill, of 
Oxford, brought the time down to 4min. 
21 35th sec, winning by sixty yards. But 

MILES— F. S. HOKA\ W]S"Nl%"ii p iB 

in 1894 W- R. Lutyens, of Cambridge, 
who, like Cross, won four times, set up 
the present record of 4 min. 194-5^ sec 
It is a great pity that neither Cross 
nor Pollock -Hill met Lutyens ; the winner 
would have made a marvellous time, not far 
from the amateur record held by R E, 
Bacon — 4mm. iysec. Pollock-Hill, a tall, 
sparely - built, and very tough runner of 
notable stamina, combined a typical long- 
distance stride with a fine turn of pace* At 
Oxford he made the amateur record for 1,000 
yards, a record since lowered at Cambridge 
by Lutyens, but for inter-'Varsity purposes he 
devoted himself, except on one occasion, to 
the three miles. Lutyens, a man of medium 
height, finely shaped for running and by 
nature a polished mover, travelled with a 
beautiful feathery stride, using his ankles to 
the full in giving himself the upward rise. 

Honours in the three miles have been 
fairly equally divided. It is rather curious to 
note that five times during thirty three years — 
that is, on nearly half the available occasions- — 
this race has been won three years running 

^flff^mkrtiekr addition ' w 



Hough won three times, though not consecu- 
tively, out of the four lie ran. The greatest 
distance by which the race has been won is 
2 So yards, by l\ R. Benson ; the least, seven 
yards, by F. M. Ingram. Hough set the 
record at 15mm. r i-5th sec. in 1880, and 
this stood lor thirteen years, when R S. 
Horan, before mentioned, reduced it to 
14mm. 44 3-5 tli sec, which is 20 3-5 th see. 
worse than the amateur record by Sid 
Thomas. On a comparison of times it 
certainly appears that Horan was much 
the best man ever produced by the 
'Varsities at the three miles. Like Pollock- 
Hill, he possessed great pace ; he seems to 
have been a berter man than Lutyens in the 
half-mile, and, indeed, better than any British 
contemporary except Bred in. In America, 
on a fast track and a favourable day, he 
ran the half in imin- 56sec. He had a 
free, untiring stride and never failed for pace. 
A curious sideway action with his shoulders 
and a r m sin 
running rather 
detracted from 
the ease of his 

The four re- 
maining events, 
the two jumps, 
the hammer, and 
the weight, have 
never been very 
popular as enter- 
tuinments ■ so 
few of the spec- 
tators are near 
enough to follow 
intelligently the 
progress of the 
which is at best 
somewhat long 
drawn out. 

Even the high 
jump is liable to 
be tedious during the preliminary stages, 
and, indeed, is rarely interesting unless 
the two best men have a pointed struggle 
or unless one man achieve a really con- 
siderablc height To the jumpers them- 
selves the contest is exciting enough, for 
high-jumping is much more tricky and com- 
plicated than it looks. When a man 
approaches his limit he knows that the least 
mistake in taking off will ruin his jump. 
Therefore, he samples the lath long and 
carefully. It is very easy for a man to lose 
confidence if in one of his attempts his foot- 


hoi J gives way ■ and confidence means much 
in jumping* To do his best a man must 
take off almost exactly on the same spot each 
time, One of the objections lo a fixed place 
for jumping, like that at Queen's Club, is 
that the uprights cannot be moved for a new 
foothold. A heavy-weight jumper is often 
handicapped towards the end of the com- 
petition by the track having been cut up and 
loosened during the earlier stages, The 
attendant, pat he never so busily with the 
back of a spade, can only partially restore 
the surface. There is little doubt that 
firm, natural turf of good quality, closely 
cropped, is better than the cinder track ; it 
is more springy and quite as solid. Good 
turf is not friable like cinder track and does 
not jar the legs nearly as much, 

The 'Varsities have not been notably rich 
in first -class high jumpers, but the inter 
'Varsity record, 6ft 2^111., by M, J, Brooks, 
is indeed a fine one. Even in America, 

where high- 
jumping has 
been developed 
to scientific ex : 
cellence, 6ft is 
not done too 
often ; in Britain 
very, very rarely. 
Brooks's famous 
jump compares 
not unfavourably 
with the amateur 
record by P. H. 
Leahy, the Irish- 
man — 6ft, 4^in, 
From all ac- 
counts Brooks's 
natural style 
somewhat resem- 
bled in essentials 
the scientific 
method cultiva- 
ted in America, 
of which M , 
Sweeney, holder of the world's record at 6ft. 
5 58th fn., has proved the greatest exponent 
Brooks took a short run, quite slow, and then 
jumped straight up, lifted his legs over the 
bar while hts body was still below it 
on the near side, and then levered his 
body up afterwards, using his hips as a 
fulcrum. It is this gymnastic leverage of 
the body that distinguishes the American 
style* (1, Howard Smith, who won the 
high jump for Cambridge last year with 
5ft* 10^ in,, though he depends chiefly on his 
native flffltyftSpfy hf^HlS.tffi uch of th ' s 

tick mr.n jl/.uj-*— m ( j. brooks kfcokd-holdkr. 



method in clearing the bar; he is the only 
'Varsity man brides Brooks who has sur- 
mounted 6ft, in a competition : this he did 
at Montreal last year. In the Inter- 'Varsity 
Spores E. D. Swan wick is second to Brooks 
with 5ft, ii in, Swanwick, a tall, flight, but 
very strong man, took the lath obliquely, but 
much more neatly than most jumpers in this 
style. He was capable of 6 ft, \ in fact, in 
practice he managed it + Besides the above- 
mentioned, only one man* W. P. Mont- 

kind of clay invented by the ground-man at 
Formers. Into this the heel of the jumper 
cuts as clean as may be, and measurement 
is easy. 

Each jumper has four tries, and is placed 
according to his best effort. The order of 
jumping, as in the case of the high jump, is 
pre-arranged, and may not be departed from. 
If a man refuses without crossing the mark 
he may go back and have another try, but if 
he crosses the mark it counts as a jump, 

gomery, also of Oxford, has done over The distant spectator may, as a rule, safely 

5ft, ioin, in the sports. The average height 

attained is not strikingly good ; some of the 

winning jumps during the first ten years, 

possibly cwing to wet or rough turf, were 

decidedly mediocre. During the last ten 

years, however, the height has only once 

fallen below 5ft. 8in, It must be admitted, 

however, that only very occasionally have 

both 'Varsities in any given year been able 

to boast a first-class jumper. 

For long-jumping the conditions at 
Queen's Club are perfect Straight in front 
of the pavilion is laid a miniatijre track 
between forty and fifty yards long and Z%^ 
broad, which is as carefully tended as any 
part of the running path. At each end of this 
a thickish board of tough wood is let into the 
ground flush with the surface, so that one 
edge of it about 2 in. broad, which is painted 
white, affords a stable mark to take off from. 
Immediately beyond the board there is a sheer 
drop of several inches into the shallow some 
13ft. long which extends to the pit into which 
the jumpers alight, The ends of this pit are 
open, but each side is contained by a piece 
of wood marked off in feet and inches* 

Formerly the pit was filled with soft earth 
mixed with 
raked smooth 
and patted 
level with a 
spade; but as 
it was found 
that this soft 
earth broke 
away too 
much after 
the jumper 
alighted to 
admit ofaccu- 
rate measure- 
ment, the 
middle part 
of the pit has 
now been 

mleU Wltn a TIJE jjg NQ jump — g. u. fry making t.he; fl&-o*.a to:^j jump c* Tjfi. jlW,, 1692. 

conclude that the man who jumps highest in 
the air is also covering the greatest distance. 
Moderate long-jumping is not very taking to 
the eye, but the good is worth watching. To 
make a fine jump a man must artfully unite 
speed and spring in an all-out effort. 

I nter- 'Varsity long-jumping has on the 
average been very poor, Twenty-one feet is 
a schoolboy jump, yet on nearly half the 
occasions the winner has failed to compass 
that distance, E. J, Da vies, who won three 
times running, jumped 22ft. roj^in, in 1874, 
and this stood as a record till 1892, when it 
was broken and set at 23ft. 5111.,* which is 
still the record, though G. G. Vassall came 
within 2in. of it in 1899. Davies, a very fast 
sprinter, is said to have secured his length of 
jump chiefly by pace. Vassall was a very 
consistent jumper ; his run-up was strong, 
level, and accurate ; he generally struck square 
on the mark and then rose high, gathering 
himself compactly in the air. Another good 
'Varsity jumper was J. L. Grieg, who on one 
occasion beat 22ft with all four jumps ; he 
was methodical and possessed fine nerve. 

* Mr. Fiy'l iNfclunkJ modesty hns prevented liini firkin suiting 
that thin record-breaker was himself. — En. 




The hammer nnd the weight, generally 
known ns the u strong-man ?1 events, are the 
ugly ducklings of the sports. For years 
now there has been heated discussion as to 
whether they ever ought to have been in- 
cluded in the programme. Some people 
say that they are not in keeping with an 
athletic meeting while others urge that being 
unique in kind they ought to be preserved. 
The truth appears to be that "strongman" 
events performed by men skilful as well as 
strong are good sport, but are otherwise 
both feeble? and uninteresting. It is a great 
mistake to suppose that hammer-throwing 
and weight-putting are feats of brute strength; 
they depend equally upon skill, for success is 
due not to the amount of strength possessed, 
but to the amount applied, and the applica- 
tion of strength to the projection of a iolb. 
hammer or a weight is neither simple nor 
easy. On the whole, "strong-man" events 
have not been much cultivated at the 
Universities ; in fact, the practice of them 
for their own sake has been scantily main- 
tained, and would probably have lapsed into 
desuetude but for their inclusion in the 
sports. Recently there has been a revival 
of interest in them, which dates to the first 
visit of the Yale team, when Hickock 
showed what Tine work was possible. Also 
it happened that for the last few years the 
"strong-man ,h idea has been a power in the 

land and the subject of much general 

The great name in hammer-throw- 
ing is G, H* Hales, of Cambridge, 
who compassed 138ft In his days 
the throwers were allowed unlimited 
run and length of handle. Later the 
hammermen were reduced to a 30ft. 
circle and a 4ft, handle, and more 
recently to the regulation A, A. A, 
9ft. circle. Among more recent 
performers G. F. Robertson, J, IX 
Greenshields, and E, E, B. May 
have been the best. Robertson's 
longest throw was 116ft. 710. E, E, 
B, May threw 128ft. 31m at New 
York last year, but was beaten by 
W. A. Boal, of Harvard, with 
136ft, 8in, This sort of distance is 
no mean athletic performance, and 
is decidedly worth looking at. 

The 'Varsity standard for the weight 
has been low; anything over 36ft* has 
won more often than not. The record 
is held by J. H. Ware, with 39ft. rin., a dis- 
tance which would not be thought much of 
in America. 'Hie British record for the weight 
is 46ft, 5)4 in., by I). H organ ; the world's 
record, 47ft., by (*. R. Grey, a Canadian. 

by Google 


Original from 


At Sunwich Port. 

By W. W. Jacobs. 


HARMED at the ease with 
which he had demolished the 
objections of Mr. Adolphus 
Swarm and won that suffering 
gentleman over to his plans, 
Hardy began to cast longing 
glances at Equator Lodge. He reminded 
himsdf that the labourer was worthy of his 
hire, and it seemed moreover an extremely 
desirable thing that Captain Nugent should 
know that he was labour- 
ing in his vineyard with 
the full expectation of 
a bounteous harvest. He 
resolved to call. 

Kate Nugent, who 
heard the gate swing 
behind him as he 
entered the front gar- 
den, looked up and 
stood spellbound at his 
audacity, As a fairly 
courageous young per- 
son she was naturally 
an admirer of boldness 
in others, but this 
seemed sheer reckless- 
ness. Moreover, it was 
recklessness in which, 
if she stayed where she 
was, she would have to 
bear a part or be guilty 
of rudeness, of which 
she felt incapable. She 
took a third course, and, 
raising her eyebrows at 
the unnecessarily loud 
knocking with which the 
young man announced 
his arrival, retreated in 
good order into the 
garden, where her father, 
in a somewhat heated 
condition, was laboriously planting ger- 
aniums. She had barely reached him when 
Bella s in a state of fearsome glee, came down 
the garden to tell the captain of his visitor 

"Who?" said the latter, sharply, as he 
straightened his aching back. 

" Young Mr, Hardy," said Bella, impres- 
sively, '* I showed 'in> in ; I didn't ask 'im 
to take a chair, but he took one," 

Vol. *xiiL— 30- Copyright, igoa, by W. W. Jacobs 

"Young Hardy to see me!" said the 
captain to his daughter, after Bella had 
returned to the house* " How dare he come 
to my house? Infernal impudence ! I won't 
see him," 

"Shall I go in and see him for you? J5 
inquired Kate, with affected artlessness, 

" You stay where you are, miss," said her 
father, "I won't have him speak to you ; I 
won't have him look at you. 1*11 — — " 

He beat his dirty hands together and strode 


off towards the house. Jem Hardy rose from 
his chair as the captain entered the room 
and, ignoring a look of black inquiry, bade 
him M Good afternoon." 

"What do you want?" asked the captain, 
gruffly, as he stared him straight in the eye. 

" I came to see you about your son's 
marriage," said the other, " Are you still 
desirous of preventing it?" 

El the UnUedQflStMU'fiflJTl 




"I'm sorry you've had the trouble," said 
the captain, in a voice of suppressed anger ; 
11 and now may I ask you to get out of my 
house ? " 

Hardy bowed. "I am sorry I have 
troubled you," he said, calmly, "but I have 
a plan which I think would get your son out 
of this affair, and, as a business man, I 
wanted to make something out of it." 

The captain eyed him scornfully^ but he 
was glad to see this well-looking, successful 
son of his old enemy tainted with such 
sordid views. Instead of turning him out 
he spoke to him almost fairly* 

11 How much do you want ?" he inquired, 

** All things considered, I am asking a 
good deal," was the reply, 

M How much ?" repeated the captain, im- 

Hardy hesitated* u In exchange for the 
service I want permission to visit here when 
I choose," he said, at length ; " say twice a 

Words failed the captain ; none with 
which he was acquainted seemed forcible 
enough for the occasion. He faced his 
visitor stuttering with rage, and pointed to 
the door. 

" ( Jet out of my house," he roared. 

"I'm sorry to have intruded," said Hardy, 
as he crossed the room and paused at the 


door; "it is none of my business, of course. 
I thought that I saw an opportunity of doing 
your son a good turn— he is a friend of mine 
— and at the same time paying off old scores 
against Kybird and Nathan Smith. I thought 
that on that account it might suit you. Good 

He walked out into the hall, and reaching 
the front door fumbled clumsily with the 
catch. The captain watching his efforts in 
grim silence began to experience the twin 
promptings of curiosity and temptation. 

" What k this wonderful plan of yours ? " 
he demanded, with a sneer, 

"Just at present that must remain a 
secret," said the other. He came from the 
door and, unbidden, followed the captain into 
the room again. 

11 What do you want to visit at my house 
for?" inquired the latter, in a forbidding 

"To see your daughter," said Hardy. 
The captain had a relapse. He had not 
expected a truthful answer, and, when it 
came, in the most matter-of-fact tone, it 
found him quite unprepared. His first idea 
was to sacrifice his dignity and forcibly eject 
his visitor, but more sensible thoughts pre- 

" You are quite sure, I suppose, that your 
visits would be agreeable to my daughter ? " 
he said, contemptuously. 
Hardy shook his head. 
" 1 should come ostensi- 
bly to see you," he said, 
cheerfully ; " to smoke a 
pipe with you," 

" Smoke ! " stuttered 
the captain, explosively; 
" smoke a pipe with 


" Why not ? " said the 
other, " I am offering 
you my services, and 
anything that is worth 
having is worth paying 
for, 1 suppose we could 
both smoke pipes under 
pleasanter conditions. 
What have you got 
against me ? It isn't my 
fault that you and my 
father have quarrel led," 

" I don't want any- 
thing more to say to you," 
said the captain, sternly. 
" I've shown you the 
door once. Am I to 
Original f^fri forcible measures ? " 



Hardy shrugged his broad shoulders. " I 
am sorry," he said, moving to the door 

"So am I," said the other. 

" It's a pity," said Hardy, regretfully. " It's 
the chance of a lifetime. I had set my heart 
on fooling Kybird and Smith, and now all 
my trouble is wasted. Nathan Smith would 
be all the better for a fall." 

The captain hesitated. His visitor seemed 
to be confident, and he would have given a 
great deal to prevent his son's marriage and 
a great deal to repay some portion of his 
debt to the ingenious Mr. Smith. Moreover, 
there seemed to be an excellent opportunity 
of punishing the presumption of his visitor 
by taking him at his word. 

" I don't think you'd enjoy your smoking 
here much," he said, curtly. 

"Til take my chance of that," said the 
other. " It will only be a matter of a few 
weeks, and then, if I am unsuccessful, my 
visits cease." 

"And if you're successful, am I to have 
the pleasure of your company for the rest of 
my life?" demanded the captain. 

"That will be for you to decide," was the 
reply. " Is it a bargain ? " 

The captain looked at him and deliberated. 
" All right. Mondays and Thursdays," he 
said, laconically. 

Hardy saw through the ruse, and countered. 
" Now Swann is ill I can't always get away 
when I wish," he said, easily. " I'll just drop 
in when I can. Good day." 

He opened the door and, fearful lest the 
other should alter his mind at the last 
moment, walked briskly down the path to 
the gate. The captain stood for some time 
after his departure deep in thought, and 
then returned to the garden to be skilfully 
catechized by Miss Nugent. 

" And when my young friend comes with 
his pipe you'll be in another room," he 
concluded, warningly. 

Miss Nugent looked up and patted his 
cheek tenderly. " What a talent for organi- 
zation you have," she remarked, softly. " A 
place for everything and everything in its 
place. The idea of his taking such a fancy 
to you ! " 

The captain coughed and eyed her sus- 
piciously. He had been careful not to tell 
her Hardy's reasons for coming, but he 
had a shrewd idea that his caution was 

" To-day is Thursday," said Kate, slowly ; 
" he will be here to-morrow and Saturday. 
What shall I wear ? " 

The captain resumed his gardening opera- 
tions by no means perturbed at the prophecy. 
Much as he disliked the young man he gave 
him credit for a certain amount of decency, 
and his indignation was proportionately great 
the following evening when Bella announced 
Mr. Hardy. He made a genial remark about 
Shylock and a pound of flesh, but finding 
that it was only an excellent conversational 
opening, the subject of Shakespeare's plays 
lapsed into silence. 

It was an absurd situation, but he was host 
and Hardy allowed him to see pretty plainly 
that he was a guest. He answered the 
latter's remarks with a very ill grace, and took 
covert stock of him as one of a species he 
had not encountered before. One result of 
his stock-taking was that he was spared any 
feeling of surprise when his visitor came the 
following evening. 

" It's the thin end of the wedge," said Miss 
Nugent, who came into the room after Hardy 
had departed ; " you don't know him as well 
as I do." 

" Eh ? " said her father, sharply. 

" I mean that you are not such a judge of 
character as I am," said Kate \ " and besides, 
I have made a special study of young men. 
The only thing that puzzles me is why you 
should have such an extraordinary fascination 
for him." 

" You talk too much, miss," said the 
captain, drawing the tobacco-jar towards him 
and slowly filling his pipe. 

Miss Nugent sighed, and after striking a 
match for him took a seat on the arm of his 
chair and placed her hand on his shoulder. 
" I can quite understand him liking you," 
she said, slowly. 

The captain grunted. 

" And if he is like other sensible people," 
continued Miss Nugent, in a coaxing voice, 
" the more he sees of you the more he'll like 
you. I do hope he has not come to take you 
away from me." 

The indignant captain edged her off the 
side of his chair ; Miss Nugent, quite un- 
disturbed, got on again and sat tapping the 
floor with her foot Her arm stole round his 
neck and she laid her cheek against his head 
and smiled wickedly. 

" Nice-looking, isn't he ? " she said, in a 
careless voice. 

" I don't know anything about his looks," 
growled her father. 

Miss Nugent gave a little exclamation of 
surprise. " First thing I noticed," she said, 
with commendable gravity. " He's very 
good-looking nnd very determined. What 




are you going to give him if he gets poor 
Jack out of this miserable business?" 

"Give him?" said her father, staring. 

£1 1 met Jack yesterday," said Kate, "and 
I can see that he is as wretched as he can be. 
He wouldn't say so, of course. If Mr. Hardy 
is successful you ought to recognise it, I 
should suggest one 
of your new photos, 
in an eighteenpenny 
frame.' 7 

She slipped off 
the chair and quitted 
the room before her 
father could think 
of a suitable retort, 
and he sat smoking 
silently until the 
entrance of Mrs. 
Kingdom a few 
minutes later gave 
him an opportunity 
of working off a 
little accumulated 

While the junior 
partner was thus 
trying to obtain a 
footing at Equator 
Lodge the gravest 
rumours of the 
senior partner's 
health were preva- 
lent in the town, 
Nathan Smith, who 
had been to see him 
again, ostensibly to 
thank him for his 
efforts on his behalf, 
was of opinion that 
he was breaking up, 
and in conversation 

with Mr. Kybird shook his head over 
the idea that there would soon be one 
open-handed gentleman the less m a world 
which was none too full of them, 

** We've all got to go some day," observed 
Mr, Kybird, philosophically. in Ow J s that 
cough o* yours getting on, Nat ? " 

Mr. Smith met the pleasantry coldly; the 
ailment referred to was one of some standing 
and had been a continual source of expense 
in the way of balsams and other remedies* 

" He's worried about 'is money," he said, 
referring to Mr. Swann. 

M Ah, we shaVt 'ave that worry," said Mr. 

"Nobody to leave it to/' continued Mr + 
Smith. " Seems a bit 'ard, don'i 


" PVaps if 'e 'ad 'ad somebody to leave it 
to ? e wouldn't J ave 'ad so much to leave," ob- 
served Mr. Kybird, sagely ; " it's a rum world.'' 
He shook his head over It and went on 
with the uncongenial task of marking down 
wares which had suffered by being exposed 
outside too long. Mr* Smith, who always took, 

an interest in the wel- 
fare of his friends, 
made suggestions. 

"I shouldn't put 
a ticket marked 
1 Look at this/ 7 on 
that coat," he said, 
severely. "It 
oughtn't to be 
looked at," 

" It's the best out 
o 1 three all 'anging 
together," said Mr. 
Kybird, evenly. 

"And look 'ere," 
said Mr. Smith. 
* 4 Look what an out- 
o' - the - way place 
you've put this 
ticket Why not put 
it higher up on the 

" Becos the moth- 
hole ain't there," 
said Mr. Kybird. 

Mr. Smith apolo- 
gized and watched 
his friend without 
further criticism. 

'* Gettin 1 ready for 
the wedding, I 
'spose ? w he said, 

Mr. Kybird assent- 
ed, and his brow 
darkened as he spoke of surreptitious raids 
on his stores made by Mrs, Kybird and 

"Their idea of a wedding," he said, 
bitterly, "is to dress up and make a show ; 
my idea is a few real good old pals and 
plenty of licker," 

u You'll 'ave to 'ave both," observed 
Nathan Smith, whose knowledge of the sex 
was pretty accurate. 

Mr Kybird nodded gloomily. " 'Melia 
and Jack don't seem to 'ave been 'itting it 
off partikler well lately," he said, slowly, 
** He's getting more uppish than w T ot 'e was 
when 'e come here first. But I got 'im to 
promise that he'd settle any money that T e 
might ever get lefrft) Wmt on 'Melia." 





Mr. Smith's inscrutable eyes glistened into 
something as nearly approaching a twinkle as 
they were capable* " That'll settle the five 
'undred," he said, warmly* " Are you goin 3 to 
send Cap'n Nugent an invite for the 
wedding ? "■ 

grievances, and when Hardy paid his third 
visit he ninde a determined but ineffectual 
attempt to obtain from him some information 
as to the , methods by which he hoped to 
attain his ends. His failure made him sus- 
picious, and he hinted pretty plainly that he 
had no guarantee that his 
visitor was not obtaining 
admittance under false 

" Well, I'm not getting 
much out of it," returned 
Hardy, frankly. 

" I wonder you come, rj 
said his hospitable host 

M I want you to get used 
to me," said the other* 

The captain started and 
eyed him uneasily ; the 
remark seemed fraught 
with hidden meaning. 
"And then ? ir he in- 


** They'll f ave to be asked, o T course/ 1 said 
Mr. Kybird, with an attempt at dignity, 
rendered necessary by a certain lightness in 
his friend's manner. ( * The old woman don*t 
like the Nugent lot, but shell do the proper 

" O* course she will," said Mr. Smith* 
soothingly, "Come over and J ave a drink 
with me, Dan J l ; it's your turn to stand. ft 

Gossip from one or two quarters, which 
reached Captain Nugent's ears through the 
medium of his sister, concerning the prepara- 
tions for his son's marriage, prevented him 
from altering his mind with regard to the 
visits of Jem Hardy and showing that pains- 
taking young man the door. Indeed, the 
nearness of the approaching nuptials bade 
fair to eclipse, for the time being, all other 

quired, raising his bushy 

"Then perhaps I can 
come oftener," 

The captain gave him 
up, He sank back in his 
chair and crossing his legs 
smoked, with his eyfts fixed 
on the ceiling. It was 
difficult to know what to 
do with a young man who 
was apparently destitute of 
any feelings of shame or 
embarrassment He be- 
stowed a puzzled glance in 
his direction and saw that 
he was lolling in the 
chair with an appearance of the greatest 
ease and enjoyment Following the direc- 
tion of his eyes, he saw that he was 
gazing with much satisfaction at a photo- 
graph of Miss Nugent which graced the 
mantelpiece. With an odd sensation the 
captain suddenly identified it as one which 
usually stood on the chest of drawers in his 
bedroom, and he wondered darkly whether 
charity or mischief was responsible for its 
appearance there. 

In any case, it disappeared before the 
occasion of Hardy's next visit, and the visitor 
sat with his eyes unoccupied, endeavouring to 
make conversation with a host who was if 
anything more discourteous than usual It 
was uphill work, but he persevered, and in 
fifteen minutes had ranged unchecked from 
North Pole explorations to poultry farming. 
It was a lelld Lo both of them when the 




door opened and Bella ushered in Dr. 

The captain received the new arrival with 
marked cordiality, and giving him a chair 
near his own observed with some interest 
the curt greeting of the young men. The 
doctor's manner indicated polite surprise at 
seeing the other there, then he turned to the 
captain and began to talk to him* 

For some time they chatted without inter- 
ruption, and the captain's replies, when 
Hardy at last made an attempt to make the 
conversation general, enabled the doctor to 
see, without much difficulty, that the latter 
was an unwelcome guest Charmed with the 
discovery he followed his host's lead, and, 
with a languid air, replied to his rival in 
monosyllables. The captain watched with 
quiet satisfaction, and at each rebuff his 
opinion of Murchison improved. It was 
gratifying to find that the interloper had met 
his match. 

Hardy sat patient. *' I am glad to have 
met you to-night," he said, after a long pause, 
during which the other two were discussing 
a former surgical experience of the captain's 
on one of his crew. 

" Yes? " said Murchison. 

u You are just the man I wanted to see." 

" Yes? " said the doctor, again, 

"Yes," said the other, nodding. **IVe 
been very busy of 
late owing to my 
partner's illness, and 
you are attending 
several people I want 
to hear about" 

Jl Indeed," said 
Murchison, with a 
half - turn " towards 

44 How is Mrs. 
Paul ? " inquired 

41 Dead ! " replied 
the other, briefly. 

t4 Dead ! "repeated 
Mr. Hardy, " Good 
heavens ! I didn't 
know that there was 
much the matter 
with her." 

14 There was no 
hope for her from 
the first," said Mur- 
chison, somewhat 
sharply. " It was 
merely a question of 
prolonging her life 

a little while. She livid longer than I 
deemed possible. She surprised ever)' body 
by her vitality." 

tt Poor thing," said Hardy. " How is Joe 

41 Dead," said Murchison again, biting his 
lip and eyeing him furiously, 

11 Dear me," said Hardy, shaking his head ; 
i( I met him not a month ago- He was on 
his way to see you then." 

11 The poor fellow had been an invalid 
nearly all his life," said Murchison, to the 
captain, casually. 

44 Aye, I remember him t " was the reply. 

" I am almost afraid to ask you," continued 
Hardy* '* but shut up all day I hear so little. 
How is old Miss Ritherdon ? " 

Murchison reddened with he! pless rage ; 
Captain Nugent, gazing at the questioner 
with something almost approaching respect, 
waited breathlessly for the invariable answer. 

"She died three weeks ago ; Fm surprised 
that you have not heard of it," said the 
doctor, pointedly. 

M Of course she was old," said Hardy, 
with the air of one advancing extenuating 

11 Very old," replied the doctor, who knew 
that the other was now at the end of his 
obituary list "Are there any other of my 
patients you are anxious to hear about ? " 





" No, thank you," returned Hardy, with 
some haste. 

The doctor turned to his host again, but 
the charm was broken. His talk was dis- 
connected, owing probably to the fact that 
he was racking his brain for facts relative to 
the seamy side of shipbroking. And Hardy, 
without any encouragement whatever, was 
interrupting with puerile anecdotes concern- 
ing the late lamented Joe Banks. The 
captain came to the rescue. 

" The ladies are in the garden," he said to 
the doctor ; " perhaps you'd like to join 

He looked coldly over at Hardy as he 
spoke to see the effect of his words. Their 
eyes met, and the young man was on his 
feet as soon as his rival. 

" Thanks," he said, coolly ; "it is a trifle 
close indoors." 

Before the dismayed captain could think 
of any dignified pretext to stay him he was 
out of the room. The doctor followed and 
the perturbed captain, left alone, stared 
blankly at the door and thought of his 
daughter's words concerning the thin end of 
the wedge. 

He was a proud man and loth to show 
discomfiture, so that it was not until a 
quarter of an hour later that he followed his 
guests to the garden. The four people were 
in couples, the paths favouring that forma- 
tion, although the doctor, to the detriment 
of the border, had made two or three deter- 
mined attempts to march in fours. With a 
feeling akin to scorn the captain saw that he 
was walking with Mrs. Kingdom, while some 
distance in the rear Jem Hardy followed 
with Kate. 

He stood at the back door for a little 
while watching ; Hardy, upright and elate, 
was listening with profound attention to Miss 
Nugent ; the doctor, sauntering along beside 
Mrs. Kingdom, was listening with a languid 
air to an account of her celebrated escape 
from measles some forty-three years before. 
As a professional man he would have died 
rather than have owed his life to the specific 
she advocated. 

Kate Nugent, catching sight of her father, 
turned, and as he came slowly towards them, 
linked her arm in his. Her face was slightly 
flushed and her eyes sparkled. 

" I was just coming in to fetch you," she 
observed ; " it is so pleasant otrt here now." 

" Delightful," said Hardy. 

"We had to drop behind a little," said 
Miss Nugent, raising her voice. u Aunt and 
Dr. Murchison will talk about their com- 

Digilized by l 

plaints to each other ! They have been 
exchanging prescriptions." 

The captain grunted and eyed her 

" I want you to come in and give us a 
little music," he said, shortly. 

Kate nodded. "What is your favourite 
music, Mr. Hardy ? " she inquired, with a 

"Unfortunately, Mr. Hardy can't stay," 
said the captain, in a voice which there was 
no mistaking. 

Hardy pulled out his watch. " No ; I 
must be off," he said, with a well-affected 
start. " Thank you for reminding me, 
Captain Nugent." 

" I am glad to have been of service," said 
the other, looking his grimmest. 

He acknowledged the young man's fare- 
well with a short nod and, forgetting his 
sudden desire for music, continued to pace 
up and down with his daughter. 

"What have you been saying to that — 
that fellow ? " he demanded, turning to her, 

Miss Nugent reflected. " I said it was a 
fine evening," she replied, at last. 

"No doubt," said her father. "What 

" I think I asked him whether he was fond 
of gardening," said Miss Nugent, slowly. 
" Yes, I'm sure I did." 

" You had no business to speak to him at 
all," said the fuming captain. 

" I don't quite see how I could help doing 
so," said his daughter. " You surely don't 
expect me to be rude to your visitors ? 
Besides, I feel rather sorry for him." 

" Sorry ? " repeated the captain, sharply. 
" What for ? " 

" Because he hasn't got a nice, kind, soft- 
spoken father," said Miss Nugent, squeezing 
his arm affectionately. 

The appearance of the other couple at the 
head of the path saved the captain the 
necessity of a retort. They stood in a little 
knot talking, but Miss Nugent, contrary to 
her usual habit, said but little. She was 
holding her father's arm and gazing absently 
at the dim fields stretching away beyond the 

At the same time Mr. James Hardy, feel- 
ing, despite his bold front, somewhat badly 
snubbed, was sitting on the beach thinking 
over the situation. After a quarter of an 
hour in the company of Kate Nugent all else 
seemed sordid and prosaic ; his own conduct 
in his attempt to save her brother from the 
consequences of his folly most sordid of all. 




He wondered, gloomily, what she would think " I've been sitting \\\ the dark to make a 

when she heard of it. certain party think I was out,?' he said, slowly. 

He rose at last and in the pale light of the "She keeps making a excuse about Teddy 
new moon walked slowly along towards the to come over and see me. Last night 'e talked 
town. In his present state of mind he wanted about making a 'ole in the water to celebrate 

Melia Ky bird's wedding, 
and she came over and 
sat in that chair and cried 
as if 'er 'art would -break- 
After she'd gone Teddy 
comes over, fierce as a 
eagle, and wants to know 
wot I've been saying to 
3 is mother to make *er 
cry. Between the two of 
'em I 5 ave a nice life of 

"He is still faithful 
to Miss Rybird 3 then?" 
said Hardy, with a sudden 
sense of relief, 

"Faithful?" said Mr. 
Wilks. M Faitliful aint 
no word for it He's a 
sticker, that^s wot *e is, 
and it's my misfortune 
that 'is mother takes after 
'im. 1 "ave to go out afore 
breakfast and stay out till 
late at night, and even 
then like as not she 
catches me on the door- 

"Well, perhaps she will 
make a hole in the water," 
suggested Hardy* 

Mr. Wilks smiled, but 

almost instantly became 

grave again. "She's not that sort,'* he 

said, bitterly, and went into the kitchen to 

draw some been 

He drank his in a manner which betokened 
that the occupation afforded him no enjoy- 
ment, and, full of his own troubles, was in no 
mood to discuss anything else. He gave a 
short biography of Mrs, Silk which would 
have furnished abundant material for half-a- 
dozen libel actions, and alluding to the 
demise of the late Mr Silk, spoke of it as 
though it were the supreme act of artfulness 
irra somewhat adventurous career. 

Hardy walked home with a mind more at 
ease than it had been at any time since his 
overtures to Mr. Swanru The only scruple 
that had troubled him was now removed, and 
in place of it he felt that he was acting the 
part of a guardian angel to Mr. Edward 

Original from 


to talk ahout Kate Nugent, and the only 
person who could he depended upon for doing 
that was Samson Wilks. It was a never-tiring 
subject of the steward's, and since his dis- 
covery of the state of Hardy's feelings in that 
quarter the slightest allusion was sufficient to 
let loose a flood of reminiscences. 

It was dark by the time Hardy reached the 
alley, and in most of the houses the lamps 
were lit behind drawn blinds. The steward's 
house, however, was in darkness and there 
was no response when he tapped. He turned 
the handle of the door and looked in. A 
dim figure rose with a start from a chair. 

M I hope you were not asleep?" said Hardy. 

" No, sir 5 " said the steward, in a relieved 
voice. "1 thought it was somebody else/' 

He placed a chair for his visitor and, having 
lit the lamp, slowly lowered the blind and 
took a seat opposite. 


71? | be continued.) 

UNI 1 

From Behind the Speaker's Chair. 



COMPLAINT is sometimes 
written made by admirers of Sir William 
speeches. Harcourt — and they sit on both 
sides of the House — that so 
habile a debater, so witty a conversationalist, 
should hamper himself with voluminous notes 
when he makes an important speech. That 
the precaution is not necessary is proved when 
on chance provocation he flings himself into 
debate. Sir William defends his practice 
upon clearly defined 
principles. He affirms 
that no speech de~ 
livered extemporane- 
ously survives the week 
of its birth, Alt great 
orators, from Demos- 
thenes past Burke down 
to — well, to John 
Bright, have always 
first written out their 
speeches, then commit- 
ted them to memory, 
and, possibly with the 
assistance of skilfully 
condensed notes, re . 
cited them. 

Going down to Lan- 
cashire in 1868 as a 
kind of understudy to 
John Bright, Sir 

cases — such as that of John Bright, where, as 
far as actual evidence went, the machinery of 
the MS. is practically out of sight of the 
audience— the immediate effect of an- un- 
studied speech is greater than what follows 
on recitation of a carefully prepared oration. 
But he holds the congregation before him, 
be it large or small, as a secondary concern 
compared with the multitude listening at 
the doors. Kor that wider circle, per- 
adventure for posterity, 
it is worth while^ to 
take pains with a 
speech. Composi ng 
one in the quietness 
and solitude of the 
study has, he insists, a 
double advantage. It 
not only enables a man 
to place in effective 
order his line of argu- 
ment, causing him to 
say what he has to say 
in the best form of 
words. It delivers him 
from the danger lurk- 
ing in tlit: heat of ex- 
temporaneous speak- 
ing, of saying what he 
had better have left 

These, the 
hang slowly 
posterity, formed 
opinions of 
one of the greatest Parliamentary and platform 
speakers of the last quarter of the nineteenth 
century, compel respectful attention. Having 
given it, I do not think a statesman of to- 
day need trouble himself much as to what 
pnsurity will think of the speech he is 
contemplating. Most of us probably have 
in our bookcases the speeches of Burke 
and Bright. I am not sure we frequently 
find time to read them. Sufficient to the 
day are the speeches thereof. With respect 
to the Man in the Street (who has perforce 
Sir William admits that, except in supreme remained there whilst a speech was delivered 


William, not yet 
launched in politics, 
prospering richly at the 
Parliamentary Bar, had 

opportunity of observing the Master's ora- 
torical manner, When he delivered one of 
the speeches illuminating the historical 
campaign that first placed Mr. Gladstone in 
power, he brought with him to the platform 
some eight, ten, or a dozen small cards, 
held in the palm of his left hand. Each 
contained headings of a division of his 
speech. At the top a catch word or two, 
opening the leading sentence. His perora- 
tion, ever a carefully prepared effect, was 
written out verbatim. 


2 9° 





in Parliament or on the platform) it is un- 
doubtedly an advantage that an address 
should be prepared on Sir W. Harcourt's 
plan. As far as the immediate audience is 
concerned and the effect wrought upon it is 
valued, an ini perfect speech flashed forth 
in the heat of ihe moment is worth for more 
than a perfect oration painstakingly produced 
in the study. This is more especially the 
case in debate in the House of Commons, 
where, indeed, the reading of written 
speeches is considerately, but not always 
effectively, forbidden. 

Mr. Disraeli prepared his great 
oratorical efforts with the pains- 
taking care that marks the system 
of his former young friend, Mr. 
Vernon Har court There 
was a gentleman on the 
Parliamentary staff of the 
Times who had a good 
deal to do with Mr. 
Disraeli's platform tri- 
umphs. When preparing 
for one he invited Mr. 
Neilson to stay with him, 
whether at Hisghenden 
or his town addre>s> and 
rehearsed his speech. 
The -first draft, taken 
down in shorthand, was 
fairly written out s studied 
by the master of im- 
promptus, here and there 
fresh effects tried, and, 
finally, the whole thing 
was fairly written out 
before Mr. Disraeli 
stepped on the plat- 
form. Mr. Neilson, 
following the MS. "before him, made such 
verbal alterations, addenda, or elimina- 
tion as circumstances demanded for his 

This was very well at certain political 
crises. But those familiar with Disraeli's 
manner in the House of Commons after he 
assumed the leadership w T ill remember how r 
dreary were long stretches of his speech when 
they passed beyond the Jim its of an hour ; 
how pointed and potent his contributions 
to debate wrapped within the limits of 
twenty minutes. 

V\ hen Mr. Gladstone was called 

MR. glad- upon for sustained effort, on 

stone. explaining one of his Budgets or 

in introducing one of his e|>och- 

making Bills, he necessarily had more or less 

voluminous notes. But they were the meagre 

skeleton of his oration, head-lines pointing 
to division of subject or containing rows of 
figures. He never read a sentence, much 
less a passage, from the MS, Some of his 
most delightful House of Commons speeches 
were delivered on Tuesday or Friday evening, 
when private members still had the privilege 
of moving resolutions or pressing forward 
Kills. At such times, leaning on the desk, 
he, without raising bis voice beyond con- 
versational pitch, chatted to the charmed 
circle, On more important occasions, 
when a sudden turn had twisted 
debate, he was accustomed to spring up 
obviously, necessarily, without a moment's 
preparation and pour forth a torrent of 
persuasive argument. 

In this tl 

UNCLE AND spect t h e 

nephew. Leaders of 
both Houses 
in the present Parliament 
resemble their ancient 
foeman. Neither Lord 
Salisbury nor Mr. Arthur 
Balfour enters the lists 
of debate hampered by 
MS. notes. The Prime 
Minister does not vary 
this habitude even when 
contributing a long 
speech to a full-dress 
delate. Gifted with a 
splendid memory, trained 
to public speaking from 
early youth, he never 
falters in the delivery ot 
a series of perfectly 
phrased sentences. 

Mr. Balfour upon 
occasion, when he has to speak on an 
unfamiliar topic demeaned by common- 
place facts and vulgar fractions^ lays a 
sheaf of notes on the brass -bound Ujk 
before commencing his speech. Invariably 
they prove a trap to his impatient feet He 
gets hold of the wrong figure or puts the 
curt before the horse in connection with 
some prosaic facL When lx>rd Salisbury 
rises in the House of l,ords on great or small 
occasion he is a terror to his colleagues on 
the Front Bench, They never know what 
blazing indiscretion may not flash forth 
before he resumes his seat. Mr. Balfour is 
safe enough on his legs when unhampered by 
notes. With these t>efore him he is sure to 

Recurrent accident brings forth his inimi- 
table " Exactly." When the Attorney -General 





or the Minister specially 
informed on the subject 
before the House corrects 
an assertion — as when Mr. 
Balfour says H North r 
when he means "South," 
speaks of "400* when he 
means "4,000," or mixes 
up the two hemispheres — 
he turns upon his colleague 
with a winning smile, an 
encouraging nod, and says, 
" Exactly/' The impres- 
sion conveyed is that his 
interlocutor has blundered 
in a statement of fact, has 
made another shot and 
this time has hit the mark. 
Nothing is farther from 
Mr. Balfour's desire, no 
thing more remote from 
his nature, than to dis- "«i 

courage well meant effort, 
So in urbanest manner be smiles and nods and 
says, ** Exactly," repeating the performance 
when, ten minutes later, he again stumbles in 
taking a fence of facts or figures. 

To such length does he carry his in- 
difference to opportunity for preparing his 
speeches that I have seen him, when, in his 
former capacity as Leader of the Opposition, 
it fell to his lot to second a vote of con^ 
dole nee, scribble a note or two on his knee 
as the mover of the Address proceeded with 
his laboured oration. 

I have known 

lyon in the House 

playfair, of Commons 

three men 
who when they took part 
in important debates wrote 
out their speeches, learnt 
them off by heart, and 
recited them. One was 
Lyon Playfair, who 
successfully hid his strata- 
gem. Opportunity never 
enticed him into oratorical 
flights. There was ever 
much of the professorial 
lecture about his Parlia- 
mentary addresses. His 
happiest effort, certainly 
the one most enjoyed by 
himself, was when, a 
question of margarine 
turning up, he brought 
down to the House a 
collection of pots of ■.„ wapm ^ ■p**r/ t Original fffetti lie did not brinB 

various compounds, illus- 
trating his lecture by 
occasional display of the 
samples to the profoundly 
interested class. 

Another mem- 
p. j. Smyth, her of quite a 
different class 
who recited his speeches 
was P. J. Smyth, a repre- 
sentative from the north 
of Ireland. A plain ly- 
dressed, quiet - mannered, 
slightly - lame person, he 
did not often catch the 
Speaker's eye. Once a 
Session was the full 
average of his interven- 
tion. His speech when 
declaimed proved to be 
modelled on the ancient 
style of Kurke even more 
closely than of Fox. To 
the modern ear the style of the oration 
was ornate. I don't suppose his most suc- 
cessful effort fluttered the resolution of a 
member who had come down to vote. It 
was magnificent, but it was not debate. 
Nevertheless it was a rare intellectual treat 
which the House greatly enjoyed, 

Joseph Cowen is the third menv 
j ok co wen. ber in the category of reciters. 
He equalled P. J, Smyth in the 
glow and colour of his oration, whilst he far 
excelled him in force of 
argument and application 
to practical politics. The 
echoes of his speech on 
the Royal Titles Bill, 
delivered a quarter of a 
century ago, still linger 
with old members. An 
extensive reader with a 
marvellous memory, 
Cowen gave to his 
political speeches that 
embroidery of literary re- 
ference which finds quick 
response in a cultured 
audience. His personal 
appearance and the deep 
Northumbrian burr of his 
voice added to the in- 
terest of his too rare 

So complete was his 
command over his 
studiously-penned oration 




with him a page of notes. Now and 
then, whether by design or accident, he 
hesitated, laid hold of the lapels of his coat — 
after a fashion familiarized by Mr, Arthur 
Balfour — and, for a moment, bent his head 
in silence. Uplifting it he continued the 
stream, at lava heat, of scholarly, impas- 
sioned declamation. 

Towards the end of last 

the king c . u 

Session a rumour ran through 

the House of Commons that 

PARLIAMENT. . — ■ , , . 

the King intended to pay a 
visit to Westminster, and was expected to 
look in at the House of Lords during the 
course of the sitting. Nothing came of it, and was looked forward to as a notable spec- 
tacle was withheld from the gaze of spectators. 
Some denied the probability of the rumour 
being verified on the ground that it would be 
Unconstitutional for the 
Sovereign to be present 
in either House of Parlia- 
ment whilst debate was 
going forward. That 
may he so ; but there is 
certainly precedent for 
such procedure. Charles 
IL frequently sat in the 
House of Lords whilst 
debate was going for- 




w a s , 


graciously said, u better 
than going to a play," 
which suggests that noble 
lords were livelier in 
Stuart days than in these 
degenerate times. Writ- 
ing in 1670, when the 
Merry Monarch dropped 
in on the peers, not 
even hoping he did not intrude, Andrew 
Marvell observes: "It is true this has 
been done long ago. But it is now so 
old that it is new, and so disused that at any 
other but so bewitched a time as this it would 
have been looked on as a high usurpation 
and breach of privilege," 

The last time King Charles was present at 
debate in the House of Lords was in the 
Session of r68o. The sturdy Commons had 
passed a Bill excluding the Duke of York 
from reversion to the throne on the ground 
that he was a Papist. The House of Lords, 
after a fashion not unknown in modem times, 
Homing the deliberate purpose of the repre- 
sentatives of the people, threw out the Bill 
The King sat out the debate, enjoying it so 
much that he not only dined in the House, 
but stayed for supper. 




Whilst still Prince of Wales, 
Edward VI L showed keen and 
abiding interest in Parliamentary 
debate. Twenty years ago, when 
the Parnellites were in full force, he rarely 
passed a week without spending an hour or 
two in the Gallery over the clock. He 
happened to be there on a Tuesday afternoon 
in the spring of 1875, on which Mr. Chaplin 
had secured the first place for a motion 
relating to the breed of horses. Mr. Biggar 
had a peculiar animosity towards Mr. Chaplin, 
and seized this opportunity of gratifying it. 
The orator had just risen and was preparing 
to discourse, when Joseph (lillis "spied 
strangers." At that date the House was at 
the mercy of any single member exercising 
this antique privilege. There was no appeal 
against the potency of the member for 
Cavaru The Prince of 
Wales and his entourage, 
including the German 
Ambassador, were com- 
pelled to withdraw with 
other strangers in the 

Of late years, the 
House of Commons be- 
coming portentously dull 
under the wet blanket 
of an overwhelming 
Ministerial majority, the 
Prince of Wales was an 
infrequent visitor to the 
House of Commons. 
But if in town he rarely 
missed an important 
debate in the Lords. He 
never took part in debate, 
nor voted in any division 
save one. Exception was made in favour 
of the Deceased Wife's Sister Bill, in 
whose favour His Royal Highness always 
voted, occasionally presenting a petition on 
its behalf. 

Whilst it is not probable that His Majesty 
will recur to the practice of Charles IL and 
attend debates in the Lords, he may he 
counted upon to bring closer the personal 
relations between the Sovereign and Parlia- 
ment which lapsed through long stages of 
the last reign. He will not only regularly 
open Parliament in person, but will doubtless 
revive the custom in vogue when Queen 
Victoria came to the throne of proroguing 
it without the agency of a Royal Commission. 
This ceremony was contemplated last Session, 
but was foregone owing to the death of the 
Empress of Germany, renewing the partially 




dispelled gloom of her Royal mother's passing 

I hear from one who speaks with 

Victoria's amhori fy ( n0t > like mysdf, one of 
r the scribes) that the amount of 

, personalty left by Queen Victoria 
' did not exceed ^£800,000. This 
will be a shock to the slowly built-up con- 
victions of those who regarded her late 
Majesty as one of the richest Sovereigns in 
Europe. It certainly 
is at variance with 
conclusions founded 
on acknowledged 
facts. When, on the 
Queen's Accession, 
the Civil List was 
settled it was based 
on a most liberal 
estimate. To a Com- 
mittee of the House 
of Commons were le- 
mitted the accounts 
of income and ex- 
penditure of the 
Civil List of William 
IV, in the last full 
year of his reign. 
The charges incurred 
in various depart- 
ments were gone 
through, and with 
slight variations the 
aggregate sum was 
allotted for the 
Civil List of the Girl -Queen. 

How this worked is illustrated by the vote 
for the Lord Chamberlain's department. The 
Com rn it tee discovered that tradesmen's bills 
paid by the Lord Chamberlain amounted 
exactly to ^41,898. William IV. 's suc- 
cessor being a lady they chivalrously made 
the sum the round figure of ^4 2,000, In 
the way of addition that was quite im- 
material. But as appears on the face of 
the accounts, the expenditure in this par- 
ticular department was quite exceptional. 
William IV., looking forward to further 
length of years, spent large sums on reno- 
vating his residence. Exceptional expendi- 
ture, divided amongst upholsterers, cabinet- 
makers, locksmiths, ironmongers, joiners, and 
the like 3 amounted to over ^£20,000. By 
the action of the House of Commons' Com- 
mittee that sum was permanently allotted 

as additional annual subsidy to the Lord 
Chamberlains department under the new 

Embarrassment of riches— afflicting other 
departments when, on the death of the 
Prince Consort, Queen Victoria retired into 
private life — was averted by an ingenious 
automatic arrangement It was ordered that 
wherever surpluses presented themselves in 
particular departments the money should be 

handed over to the 




keeper of the Privy 
Purse. The sum, 
whatever its varying 
amount might be, 
was during the twenty 
years after the death 
of the Prince Consort, 
when ceremonial 
usages involving ex- 
penditure specially 
provided were abro- 
gated, added to the 
/6o,ooo a year 
allotted by the Civil 
List to the Queen's 
Privy Purse. 

In 1873 the swel- 
ling of many rivulets 
leading into this 
reservoir became so 
embarrassing that a 
special Act of Parlia- 
ment was passed for 
its relief. Under 
the Statute law then existing the Sove- 
reign was precluded from holding here- 
ditary property. The case is succinctly 
and authoritatively stated by Sir George 
Cornewall Lewis r Chancellor of the Ex- 
chequer in 1857. Supporting a vote for 
a dowry for the Princess Royal^ Sir George 
did so on the specific ground that the nation 
had of its wisdom deprived the Queen of a 
parent's opportunity for making such provi- 
sion, "It has been deemed a matter of policy 
in this country," said Sir George, li to strip and 
denude the Sovereign of all hereditary pro- 
perty, and to render him during his life 
entirely dependent upon the bounty of Parlia- 
ment." In 1873 Mr. Gladstone changed all 
that, adding to the Statute-book what was 
called "The Crown Private Estates Act" 
This enabled the Sovereign to invest his or her 
savings after the manner of the private citizen. 

by Google 

Original from 

A Wonderful Girl 

By Richard Marsh. 

S a small girl I must have been 
a curiosity , at least, I hope 
so; because if I were only an 
average child what a time 
parents, and guardians, and 
schoolmistresses, and those 
sort of persons* must have of it. To this 
hour I am a creature of impulse. But 

then ! I did a thing ; started to regret 

it when it was about half done ■ and if I 
ever thought at all about the advisability of 
doing it it was certainly only when everything 
was over, 

Take the case of my very fleeting associa- 
tion with Bradford's Royal Theatre. 

So far as I can fix it, at the time I must 
have been about twelve— a small, elf-like 
creature, with eyes which were ever so much 
too big for my face, and a mass of unruly, 
very dark brown hair. Some people have 
told me that then it was black, but I doubt 
it; for there are those who tell me that it 
is black now, which I have the very best of 
reasons for knowing it is not. At that school 
they called me "The Witch," in allusion, I 
believe, not only to my personal appearance, 
hut also to my uncanny goings-on. 

The school was in a 
Sussex village. To that 
village there used to come 
each year a travelling 
theatre — it took the form of 
a good - sized oblong tent 
which was erected in a field 
which was attached to the 
Half Moon Hotel. I 
imagine that the whole 
country-side must have pat- 
ronized Bradford's Royal 
Theatre, because some- 
times it would stay there for 
two months at a time. It 
put in its first appearance 
so far as I was concerned 
during my second term at 
Miss Priit-hard's school. 
We girls were not sup 
posed to know any thing 
about it ; hut well do I 
remember the awe with 
which I used to gaze at the 
e \ceedi ngly dingy ran va s 
structure as we passed it in 

our walks. And once when Nelly Haynes, 
with whom I was walking, pointing to an in- 
dividual who was lounging in his shirt-sleeves 
at the entrance to the field, observed that 
that was one of the principal actors—though 
what she knew about it I have not the 
faintest notion — I could not have stared at 
him with greater curiosity had' he' been the 
slave of Aladdin's wonderful lamp. 

Even yet, when I am in the mood, I read 
everything in the way of print that 1 can lay 
my hand on. In that respect, also, I fear 
that the girl was mother to the woman. I 
had recently come across an article in a 
magazine treating of Infant Phenomena ; I 
am not quite sure if the plural ought to be 
written with an a or an j, when using the 
word in that particular sense : but, any way, 
I will leave it. How I had lighted on the 
magazine I cannot remember ; but I rather 
fancy that it must have been the property of 
one of the governesses who had left it lying 
about, and that I borrowed it without going 
through the form of asking leave. I know 
that I took it to a corner of the orchard, of 
which we had the freedom when there was no 
fruit upon the trees, ami that I devoured that 


1 TOOK IT TU A COftQW$i>IUkftt%niHU/' 




article. It was all about precocious children, 
recording how Mozart had composed 
masses — whatever they were — at the age of 
two, or less; and how some little girl had 
won fame as a dancer at the age of three, 
or perhaps a trifle more. But in particular 
it told of the Infant Roscius. The story of 
that wonderful boy — he was throughout 
alluded to as the wonderful boy — set my 
brain in a whirl. I do not think that I have 
read much — if anything — about William 
Henry West Betty since; but I do believe that 
I recollect nearly all that I read then. He 
took London by storm when he was twelve 
years old — my age ! the tale of my own years 
nearly to a tick ! As Selim, in " Barbarossa" 
— when one thinks of it it must have been a 
wonderful part in a truly wonderful play for 
that wonderful boy — the whole world of wit 
and wealth and fashion was at his feet. In 
the course of a single season he gained over 
seventeen thousand pounds ! 

Those are facts and figures for you— 
especially were they facts and figures for me 
then. By the time I had reached the end of 
that article my mind was firmly resolved 
upon one point: that I would be an Infant 
Phenomenon. There should be a Wonderful 
Girl as well as a Wonderful Boy. It seemed 
clear to me that girls of the proper type 
might be made quite as attractive as boys. 
The mystery was that there should not have 
been a Wonderful Girl already. But the 
want should be immediately supplied. 

Of course one or two difficulties were in 
the way. I had never acted myself or seen 
anybody else act, and knew as much about 
plays as about Mars. And then, Betty was 
encouraged, while I had an inward conviction 
that that would not be the case with me. 
Under these circumstances I did not quite 
see, at the moment, how I was to play the 
principal part at Covent Garden ; nor even 
begin to charm the world, as young Betty 
had done, at a theatre in Ireland. But not 
for one moment did I allow myself to be 
daunted by considerations of that kind. 

I think it was the very next day — my 
enthusiasm lasted all through the night, 
which was not always the case, for I have 
gone to sleep intending to marry a mis- 
sionary and woke up bent on being a queen 
of the cannibals — that Fate threw in my 
way the very opportunity I wanted at 
Bradford's Royal Theatre. 

I imagine that it must have been pretty 
bad weather about that time : when it was 
not raining it was blowing ; and when, as the 
Irishman said, it was doing neither ,it was 

doing both. Climatic conditions unfavour- 
ably affected the attendance at Bradford's 
Royal Theatre. I know such was the case 
because I heard the governesses saying so. 
It all comes back to me. It was after morn- 
ing lessons ; I was in the schoolroom writing 
to someone at home — in those days I was a 
tremendous correspondent — and some of the 
governesses were talking together close to 
where I sat They paid no attention to the 
pair of large ears attached to the small person 
close at hand. The theme of their conversa- 
tion was Bradford's Royal Theatre, and they 
were expressing their fears that things had 
lately gone very badly with the company 
thereof. Two remarks stick in my memory : 
that on one occasion there had only been 
one-and-ninepence taken at the door, and 
that at the close of a recent week there 
had been less than two pounds to divide 
among seven people. What warrant they 
had for their statements I cannot say ; 
but I know that they made a vivid im- 
pression on me at the time. And when 
they spoke of certain individuals being in 
actual want it was all I could do to refrain 
from showing more interest in the topic under 
discussion than, under the circumstances, 
would have been discreet. 

Because, as I listened, it burst in upon me 
in one of those sudden flashes of illumination 
to which I was singularly liable, that here was 
the very opening I wanted : here was a 
chance to figure, in a double sense, as a 
Wonderful Girl. 

On the one hand, I would dower these 
unfortunate people with the wealth of which 
they stood so much in need ; on the other, I 
would take the world by storm. At Brad- 
ford's Royal Theatre, in the guise of a bene- 
volent fairy, I would commence the career 
compared to which that of the Infant Roscius 
would be as nothing. 

I did not stop to consider ; it was not 
my custom. Stealing from th© schoolroom, 
taking my hat from its peg, crossing the play- 
ground, paying no attention to the girls who 
spoke to me, through the gate out into the 
road I marched right straight away to 
Bradford's Royal Theatre. 

When I think of it I hardly know whether 
to laugh or cry. The eager little creature 
that I was, with my heart swelling in my 
bosom, my head full of unutterable things, 
striding along the country road ; now break- 
ing into a run, now compelled to relax my 
speed for want of breath. It must have been 
nearly one o'clock — our dinner-time at 
school. I remember that I had twopence in 

j 1 1 1 .* 1 1 1 




my pocket. I fancy that at Miss Pritchard's 
— my first boarding-school — my allowance 
was threepence a week, and as that was paid 
on Saturday, and I still had twopence left, it 
is probable that I adventured in the regions 
of infant phenomena upon a Monday. My 
way lay past a solitary shop, I got hungry 
as I walked — in those days I did get hungry ; 
the presence of that shop brought the fact 
vividly home to me, I paused to see what 
might be bought : my instinct pointed to 
sweets. Just as I was about to follow my 
instinct I perceived, on a dish in the 
corner of the window, a German sausage, 
or, rather, a portion of one. I thought 
of the hungry folk at Bradford's Royal 
Theatre. My mind was made up on the 
instant. Into the shop I went, and asked 
for twopenny worth of German sausage. 

the enthusiasm which had originally sent me 
speeding like an arrow from a bow. Probably 
the whole distance was not more than three- 
quarters of a mile ; and of that less than 
two hundred yards remained. But that two 
hundred yards took me longer than all the 
rest had done* 

I was beginning — positively !— to be afraid. 
When F reached a point at which the 
histrionic temple was only on the other side 
of the road I stood still I was conscious of 
considerable reluctance to cross from the 
side on which I was to the side on which it 
was. . For one thing, I was appalled by the 
peculiar dreariness of its appearance. I 
could not fancy the Infant Roscius com- 
mencing his career in that. The tent itself 
did look so shabby; the living - waggons, 
which stood disconsolately together in the 


Whoever it was that ^-rved me must have 
stared ; for I can hardly have looked like an 
individual who might be expected to make a 
purchase of the kind. But, anyhow, I got 
what I desired, and with it in my hand, 
wrapped in a piece of newspaper, I pursued 
my way, 

I would not only present these unfortu- 
nates with the first-fruits of my great gifts ; 
I would furnish them with food as well. 

Whether, while I was being served with 
the German sausage, I had time to begin to 
reflect, 1 cannot say ; but I have a clear 
recollection that, after quitting that emporium 
of commerce, my steps were not marked by 

mud, were so much in want of painting ; 
about the whole there was such an atmo- 
sphere of meanness , such a wealth of mire t 
that my heart began to sink. A small girl 
ran from the lent to a waggon, and from the 
waggon back to the tent. She struck me as 
being the dirtiest and most disreputable- 
looking creature I had ever seen. I called 
to her, meaning to give her that twopenny- 
worth of German sausage, and then retire, 
postponing the opening of my career until a 
future time. But either I did not call loud 
enough, or she was in too much haste to 
heed : she disappeared without a glance in 

my direction, . . _ _ . 

Original from 

y\/\ii , ■- wnyinai iiuiii 




The moment she was gone sudden con- 
sciousness of the shameful thing that I would 
do swept over me. I had come to help those 
poor people, and just because they evidently 
were so much in want of help I proposed to 
leave them to their fate. Was I attempting 
to quiet my conscience by pretending that it 
would be enough to present them with two- 
pennyworth of German sausage ? What — 
my thoughts flying back to what the governess 
had said — was twopenny worth of German 
sausage among seven ? Why, I could eat it 
all myself, and more ! Over the road I tore, 
clattered along the boards which formed a 
causeway through the thick, upstanding filth ; 
in a flash was through the entrance and in 
the theatre. 

Then I paused. Without, the day was 
dull ; inside, to my unaccustomed eyes, all 
at first was darkness. 1 have not forgotten 
the anguish with which I began to realize 
some of the details of my surroundings. It 
was all so dreadful, so different to anything 
I had expected. To begin with, there was 
the smell. As the merest dot I never could 
stand odours of any kind; even now whoever 
presents me with a bottle of scent makes 
of me an enemy. That tent smelt as if 
all the bad air was kept in and all the good 
kept out. Then it was so small ; to me it, 
perhaps, appeared smaller than it actually 
was, because I thought that Miss Pritchard's 
pupils would have filled it. And dirty — 
untidy— comfortless beyond my powers of 
description. There was nothing on the 
ground to protect one's feet from the oozing 
damp. On what the audience sat I could 
not think — I saw nothing in the way of 
seats, unless they were represented by some 
boards which were piled upon each other at 
one side. At one end, raised a little from 
the ground, was a platform of rough planks, so 
small that there could hardly have been room 
on it for half-a-dozen persons standing^breast. 
It never occurred to me till afterwards that 
that was the stage. I kept wondering where 
the stage was— I knew that theatres had stages. 

While, as they became used to the light, 
my keen young eyes were taking these things 
in, I perceived that the place had occupants. 
There were four men and three women. I 
should have put them down as the seven I 
had heard alluded to, had there not also been 
a litter of children. It was only the children 
who seemed to take any interest in me. 
They clustered round — a ragamuffin crowd — 
regarding me as if I were some strange beast. 
At last one of them exclaimed : " Mother, 
here's a little girl ! ? 

Vol. xxiii.— 38. 

by LiOOgle 

The woman whom I suppose the child 
addressed looked up from some potatoes 
which she was washing in a pail of water. 

" Well, little girl, what is it you're wanting?" 

The place, the people, their surroundings, 
everything was so altogether different to the 
vague something I had anticipated that, like 
the creature of moods I was, I seemed, all at 
once, to have passed from a world of fact 
into a world of dream. It was like one in a 
dream I answered. 

"I have come to be the Infant Roscius." 

Not unnaturally the lady who was washing 
the potatoes failed to understand. 

" What's that ? " she demanded. 

I repeated my assertion. 

" I have come to be the Infant Roscius." 

Other of the grown-ups roused them- 
selves to stare at me. 

" What's she talking about?" inquired a 
second woman, who had a baby at her 

An elderly man, who was perched on the 
edge of the platform smoking a pipe, hazarded 
an explanation. 

" She's after tickets ; that's what it is she 

The potato-washer seemed to be brightened 
by the hint. 

" Has your mother sent you to buy some 
tickets ? " 

I shook my head solemnly. 

" I have come to act" 

"To- what?" 

That my appearance, words, and manner 
together were creating some sort of sensa- 
tion I understood ; that these were ignorant 
people I had already— with my wonted 
promptitude — concluded. It seemed to me 
that it would be necessary to treat them as 
children — and dull of comprehension at 
that —to whom I, as a grown-up person, had 
to explain, in the clearest possible manner, 
exactly what it was that had brought me 
there. This I at once proceeded to do ; 
with what, I have no doubt whatever, was an 
air of ineffable superiority. 

" I am going to be a wonderful girl. I 
am nearly twelve, and young Betty was only 
twelve, and he earned over seventeen thousand 
pounds in one season, and if I earn as much 
as that I will give it all to you." I paused to 
reflect. " At least, I would give you a great 
deal of it. Of course, I should like to keep 
some ; because a wonderful girl mayn't go 
on long, and when I stop of course I should 
want to have a fortune to live upon — like 
young Betty had. But still, that wouldn't 
matter, because there'd be plenty for seven." 




Amid my confused imaginings I had pic- 
tured the announcement of my purpose 
being received with wild applause. Those 
who heard would cast themselves at my feet, 
throw their arms about me, and rain tears 
upon my head. Not that that sort of thing 
would be altogether agreeable; but some- 
thing of the kind would have to be put up 
with. When people were beside themselves 
with gratitude at seeing themselves snatched 
from the gaping jaws of famine some latitude 
for the expression of their feelings had to be 
allowed them. If, however, the persons to 
whom my explanation was actually addressed 
were beside themselves with gratitude, they 
managed to conceal the fact with astonishing 
success. It struck me that they did not 
understand me even yet, which showed that 
they must be excessively dull — more stupid 
even than the teeny-weeny tots in the first 
class who could not be got to see things. 

The seven looked from me to each other, 
then back again to me. The woman with 
the baby repeated her former question— as if 
she had np sense of comprehension. I 
wondered if she were deaf. 

" What's she talking about ? " 

The man who had dropped the hint about 
the tickets, descending from his perch upon 
the platform, came sauntering in my direc- 
tion. As he moved he placed his hand 
against his forehead. 

" Barmy on the crumpet," he observed. 

What he meant I had not a notion. It 
moved a third woman— whose girth pre- 
cluded any notion of her being on the verge 
of famine— to exclaim : " Poor dear ! " 

The potato-washer began to put me through 
an examination. 

" What's your name ? " 

"Molly Boyes." 

"Where d'ye live?" 

" West Marden." 

" You ain't come all the way from West 
Marden here ? " 

" I've come from Miss Pritchard's 

The statement seemed to fill the man with 
illuminating light. 

" Ah, that's just what I thought ■! D'rectly 
I see her that's just what I thought. Miss 
Pritchard's — that's the girls' school on the 
Brighton road — house is inside a wall. I 
went there to try to get them for * Uncle 
Tom's Cabin.' First the lady said there 
wasn't to be no flogging, then that she 
couldn't possibly bring her pupils if there 
wasn't any chairs for them to sit upon. I 
told Mr. Biffin what she said, and he said : 

' Well, there wasn't any chairs and there was 
an end of it.' " 

The woman with the baby interposed an 

" We should do better if there was chairs. 
It isn't likely that the front-scat people will 
want to sit on boards." 

The big woman proffered a reminder. 

" On the front seats there's baize." 

Which the woman with the baby spurned. 

" What's baize ? " 

The man addressed himself to me. He 
was a thin man, with iron-grey hair, and 
there was something about his face which 
made me think that, though he was untidy 
and I wished he would not wear such a very 
greasy cap, I might induce myself in time to 
like him. Never once did he remove his 
pipe from his mouth or his hands from his 

" Well, Miss Boyes, it's a pity you should 
have come to act, seeing that there's a good 
many of us here that does that sort of thing 
already. The difficulty is to get people to 
come and see us do it. Do you think that 
many of your friends would come and see 
you act ? " 

" Well — not many of my friends." 

"That, again, is unfortunate." 

u But strangers would." 

" It's that way with you, is it ? With us 
it's different. We look to friends for our 
support ; strangers are sometimes disagree- 
able. What plays were you thinking of 
acting ? " 

" I don't know any plays as yet, but I soon 

u Of course ; that's easy enough. * Hamlet,' 
I suppose, and that kind of thing. And what 
sort of part were you thinking of playing ? " 

"I really haven't thought." 

" No ; you wouldn't, such a trifle being 
of no consequence. You weren't thinking of 
playing old women ? " 

"Well, I don't think I could act old 
women, but I might try. Young Betty acted 
an old man." 

" Young Betty did. Is that so? And 
who might young Betty be ? A friend of 
yours? That young lady over there, her 
name's Betty." 

He jerked his elbow towards the woman 
with the baby. I was shocked j although, 
having already taken their ignorance for 
granted, I was able to conceal my feelings 
with comparative ease. 

"He was a boy." 

" A boy ? With a name like Betty ? What 

was h^j^nfc^fr thCn ? " 



"His name was William Henry West 
Betty. He was the Infant Koscius." 

" He was the Wonderful Boy, I am going 
to be a Wonderful GirL" 

'* You're that already. Seeing that yon 
are a Wonderful Girl, what might have put 
it into your head to come here ? " 

" You are very poor, arent you?" 

u Poor? That's what you might call a 
leading question. We're not rich. Who 
told you we were poor ? f1 

M Didn't you only take one-and-nlnepence 
at the door one night?" 

By this time general interest was being 

of wfrch I was capable, what I had heard 
the governesses saying* My remarks were 
followed by what even I felt was a significant 
silence. My interlocutor, bringing forward 
with his foot what looked like an empty egg- 
box, placed himself upon a corner. It 
creaked under his weight. 

u It would seem as if somebody knows 
almost as much about this temple of the 
drama as it knows about itself. And it cer- 
tainly is true that, regarded as a week's 
earnings, two pounds isn't much between 
seven. So you thought — — " 

" I thought I'd come and help you." 
" Come and help us ? By acting ? " 


roused in our conversation, As soon as the 
words were out of my mouth I was aware 
that they had been heard with more attention 
than anything I yet had said. Though why 
that should be the case was beyond my 
capacity of perception. 

"Only took one-and-ninepence at the door 
one night, did we ? Oh ! I ,ooks as if some- 
one had been talking. From whom might 
you have heard that piece of news ?" , 

* And one week weren't there less than 
two pounds to divide among seven? You 
could not live on that ; no one could : it's 
not to be done. It simply means starva- 

I merely repeated, with all the earnestness 

11 If I'm going to be a Wonderful Girl— and 
I am going to be — it's quite time I was be- 
ginning. Young Betty was at the height of 
his fame when he was twelve. So I thought 
I would commence by making a lot of money 
for you here — which would keep you all 
from starving ; and then, of course, I shall 
go on to London and make the rest of my 
fortune there." 

11 I see. Well ! this bangs Banagher— 
Banagher it bangs." 

What he meant I could not say. But he 
should have been a capital actor, because 
not a muscle of his face moved. A man be- 
hind him laughed — stinging me as with the 

U8h iftffiftY OF MICHIGAN 



The big woman delivered herself of her 
former ejaculation* 

** Poor dear 1 JJ 

The po tato- washer remarked :■ — 

u Strikes me, my girl, that you've a good 
opinion of yourself," 

The grey-headed man had his eyes upon 
what I had in my hand. 

"What might you happen to have there?" 

tl It's some food which I have brought for 

11 For me in particular, or for all the lot of 

"It's for the seven." 

"The seven? I see, The seven who 
divided those two sovereigns ? " 

* c Yes, It's some German sausage. I 
hope you like German sausage," 

11 It's my favourite joint." 

I endeavoured to correct what I imagined 
to be a still further display of his ignorance. 

u I don't think that German sausage is a 
joint. It's not generally looked upon as such. 
It's a long, round, cold thing, off which, you 
know, they cut slices." 

I passed him the parcel ; he — removing, 
for the first time, one of his hands from his 

wretched smallness as, with every outward 
appearance of care and gravity, he slowly 
unwrapped it The others gathered closer 
round, as if agog with curiosity. Finally 
there were revealed three or four attenuated 
slices. He held them out at arnVs length in 
front of them* 

11 For seven ! " 

" There isn't much," I managed to murmur, 
oppressed all at once by the discovery of 
what a dreadful little there really was. " But 
I had only twopence." 

" You had only twopence, so you purchased 
two penny worth of German sausage for seven?" 

"Of course I'll earn a deal of money for 
you, besides/' 

A girl came rushing into the tent behind 
me. The interruption was welcome, for I 
instinctively felt that matters had reached a 
point at which a diversion of any sort was to 
be desired. But I was far from being 
prepared for the proclamation which she 
instantly made. 

" Here's the ladv come. I've been and 
fetched her." 

To my blank astonishment there appeared 
Miss Pritchard. That intelligent young 

EtjCufrrtb nv miss fkitchaep hack to sCnlKji, 

pockets for the purpose of taking it— balanced 
it on his open palm as if on a scale. It 
was a pretty grimy piece of newspaper ; and 
was not of a sue to suggest extensive contents. 
I became more and more conscious of its 

woman, having a shrewd eye Tor a possible 
reward, had availed herself of the in forma* 
tion which had been extracted from me to 
rush off to the school to proclaim my where- 

alwt !!Wma^lT , P»DW.4CfftSRff rda learnt > a 



shilling for her pains. Never before had I 
seen Miss Pritchard in such a state of 
agitation ; and no wonder, considering the 
pace at which she must have torn along the 

" Molly ! Molly Boyes, what is the mean- 
ing of this ? ;J 

The sight of her had driven me speech- 
less : I could not have told her for every- 
thing the world contained. My interlocutory 
friend explained instead, in a fashion of his 

"It's all right, madam, everything's quite 
right, Having heard that things were in a 
bad way with us in this temple of the drama, 
this young lady has brought us twopenny- 
worth of German sausage to save us from 
actual starvation ; and has expressed her 
intention — I don't quite follow that part, but 
so far as I can make out she's proposing to 
make our for- 
tunes by begin- 
ning to be a 
Wonderful Girl ; 
which it isn't 
necessary for her 
to begin to be, 
seeing as how I 
should say that 
she's been a 
Wonderful Girl 
ever since the 
moment she was 

Of what imme- 
diately followed 
I have but a dim 
appreciation- I 
know that, on 
the instant, I was 
turned into a 
common butt, or 
I felt as if I was. 
The children 
pointed their 
fingers at me and 
jeered; the grown-ups 

were all 


once ; there was general confusion. The 
whole rickety tent was filled with a tumult of 
scorn and laughter, 

Presently I was being escorted by Miss 
Pritchard back to school, the children stand- 
ing in the middle of the road to point after 
me as I went 1 was in an agony of shame. 
With that keenness of vision with which I 
have been dowered I perceived, as I was 
wont to do, too late, what an idiot I had 
been ! What a simpleton ! What a con- 
ceited, presumptuous, ignorant little wretch 1 

How I had made of myself a mock and a 
show for the amusement of the company of 
Bradford's Royal Theatre ! I felt as if the 
hideous fact were written on my face — on 
every line of me. All I wanted was to 
hide ; to bury myself somewhere where none 
might witness my distress. Although my 
worthy schoolmistress was walking faster than 
I ever saw her walk before or afterwards, I 
kept tugging at her hand — she was not going 
fast enough for me. 

So soon as we reached the school she took 
me into her little private sitting-room, and 
required from me an immediate explanation 
of my conduct. Amid my blinding sobs I 
gave her as full and complete an explanation 
as she i:nuld possibly have desired. The 
bump of frankness was, and is, marked on 
my phrenological chart as developed to an 
even ridiculous extent. When I have been 
indulging in one of my usual 
escapades nothing contents me 
but an unrestrained declaration 
of all the motives which impelled 
me to do the thing or things 
which I ought to 
have left undone. 
I told her 
about the article 
in the magazine, 
and about my 
resolve to be a 
f e m a 1 e I n f a n t 
Roscius, and 
about what I had 
heard of the piti- 
ful state of things 
at Bradford's 
Royal Theatre, 
and my deter- 
mination to assist 
them while start- 
ing on my mete- 
oric career ; and 
before I had gone 
very far, instead of 
scolding, she had her arm about me and was 
endeavouring to soothe my sobs, She must 
have been a very sensitive person for a 
schoolmistress — though I do not know why 
I should say that, because I have not the 
least idea why schoolmistresses should not 
be as sensitive as anybody else, since they 
are human ; for when I began to tell her 
of how I had expended my capital on the 
purchase of what that grey-headed man had 
called his "favourite joint," she drew me 
quite close to her, and in the midst of my 




her cheeks, She took me on her knee, and 
instead of sending me to bed, or into the 
corner, or punishing me in any way whatever, 
she kissed and comforted me as if I had not 
been the most ridiculous child in the world, 
It might not have been the sort of treatment 
I deserved, but I loved her for it ever 

What was more, she promised not to 
betray me to the governesses, or to my 
schoolfellows, or to anyone, but I think 
that she wrote and told my mo I her, though 
mother never breathed a hint of her having 
done anything of the sort to me, but I 
always thought so. It was weeks and weeks 
before I could bear the slightest allusion to 

led us past the site of Bradford^ Royal 
Theatre. When next we went that way every 
vestige of the "temple of the drama " had 
disappeared : the dingy — and odious —tent 
had gone. 

It was with a positive gasp of satisfaction 
that I recognised the fact. A weight seemed 
lifted off my bosom , and my heart grew 
lighter there and then. When, the walk 
hiring over, we returned, before anyone could 
stop me or had an inkling of my intention, 
I dashed headlong into Miss Pritchard's 
private room. She was seated at the table, 

u It's gone ! " I cried 

She must have been very quick of under- 

anything "wonderful" without becoming 
conscious of an internal quiver. I fancy 
Miss Pritchard must have given instructions 
as to the direction our walks were to take : 
it was some little time before the governess 

standing. She did not ask me what had 
gone ; she just put her arm about me, as 
she had done before ; and pushed my hair 
from off my brow — and, I think, she 

by Google 

Original from 

The Humorous Artists of America. — I. 

By Thomas E. Curtis, 

[Attention is drawn to the fact that Ihe present series of articles on the Humorous Artists of the World 
have already deal l with English artists in January , 1902 ; with those of Germany in April, 1 901 ; 

and with those of France in December, 1901.] 

we have made, in this and the 
article to follow, a selection of 
drawings by the leading 
humorists of the United 
States— and this selection may 
be said fairly to show the best 
features of American humorous 
work. The artists represented 
include men who have been 
at work for years, as well as 
those who have recently 

Makp Nq Mi st a Kt '- -Careful Wife: " Now. Henry P don't former. The band 
amund your hat meiinja that you mint order that medicine at tlic druggist 1 .-; ; the 
string around your finger is for the theatre tickets; the bow on your arm is to 
remind you id post my letter to mother ; :«ni the knot in your handkerchief is for 
that paper of needles. Good-byr, deaf, aud be careful of yourself, ' 


jE leave to others the happy task 

of defining that which appears 

i ndefi na hie — namely, 

the American comic 

drawing, or, in longer 
phrase, the humorous draughts- 
manship of America. It is funny 
— that is admitted by fun-lovers 
on two Continents. It is 
topical — who that follows the 
comic Press of America could 
say otherwise? It is often full 
of exaggeration, but exaggera- 
tion is an adjunct to successful 
caricature ; and it is clean and 
good But how it differs from 
the comic drawings of England, 
Germany, and France — what 
the peculiar quality that mates 
it so Attractive- — are questions 
to which few would be able 
to give a comprehensive and 
satisfying reply. 

In lieu, therefore, of defini- 
tion we give example. From 
the pages of the leading 
American humorous joum 

obtained recognition, and if 
some names familiar to many 
are missing it is not because 
their work is valueless, but 
because the mass of material 
demanded the selection only 
of work most characteristic. 

There is little doubt that 
many of our readers have 
already laughed over the draw- 
ings signed **F. Opper," which 
appear herewith. The familiar 
signature thinly veils the per- 
sonality of Mr. Frederick Burr 
Opper, who, until the New 
York Journal tempted him 
away, worked steadily on Puck^ and helped 
to make the name of that paper famous. 

Simple, but Effective.— " Tis an tlligant irmmion of me own; whin the 
burglars lifts the windy, down come* *he rr>ck ■ " 







This Old Gjcn tinman Wanted to Rf.ihjce His Weight,— His doctor 

orderr*} him to run around his garden for twenty minutes before breakfast every 
day. Thk 'hows him doing it, assisted by the small boys of the neighbourhood, 


Opper began life in Ohio, and after working 
in a village " store " and in a composing- 
room found him- 
self in New Yorkj 
expressing his 
artistic nature in 
the writing of 
window-cards or 
price tickets* He 
spent his leisure 
in drawing for 
the comic pipers, 
and at the age of 
twenty went on 
the staff of Les- 
lie's Weekly as 
a h u morous 
draughtsman and 
► special artist. 
Three years later 
he became con- 
nee ted with 
Puck, and 
remained there 
till" 1898, when 
he went to the 

Oppcr's work 
has made him, 
probably, the 

best - known funny man in 
America. Its felicity is remark- 
able* There are many better 
artists — indeed, some artists 
have expressed opinions regard- 
ing Opper's drawing which, in 
the words of one writer, would 
have made "strong men turn 
pale 1 * — but if the draughtsman- 
ship is open to criticism the 
richness of his fun is undeni- 
able. His work rarely stings, 
and his power of invention 
never seems to slacken, U I 
read the newspapers," he says, 
"and follow current events, 
keep myself posted, and draw 
from this information. I always 
carry a sketch-book with me 
wherever I go," 

Opper was the creator of the 
"Suburban Resident" — the man 
with a high hat and an anxious 
expression who was always 
running for a train — over whom 
countless thousands have 
laughed. His farmers and 
countrymen are famous, and in 
his recent work for the Journal 
his " Dinkelspiel" drawings, his "Wouldn't 
It Make You Mad" series, his "Willie and 

Equal to Booth,— Amateur Actor (to friend) ; " What did you think of my ' Hamlet/ Charley ? r 

Dear Friend : " Immense ! In one part of the piny yo 1 were c<|u:il t ■ h, 101)1/ 

Amateur Actor : " Wnat pan was lhau Charley ? '" 

Dear Friend : * l Where ' Pol on i us ' gives hU parting advice to ' Laertes/ 

Amateur Acior : lJ Hut I was b hi ml the scenes then." 

Dear Friend ; " So is Booth." 


Original from 



His Papa/* and the "McKinley 
Minstrels" — the latter satirical 
cartoons — all have maintained 
a fine reputation won by fertile 
brain and hard work. The 
drawings which we reproduce 
are taken from Puck, and in- 
clude some of Opper's earliest 

Much of the work appearing 
in Puck and Judge is of the 
broadly humorous kind, exagger- 
ated in treatment— work which 
appeals immediately to the eye 
and leaves little to the imagina- 
tion. The consistency with 
which these two papers have 
maintained their success shows 
not only that they are admirably 
edited for the public they 
appeal to, but also that there 
are thousands in America who 
care little for an appeal to 
imagination. Those who do 
care for it get it in Life, which 
as a humorous "society" paper 
has been as consistently edited 
and as successful as its contem- 
poraries. Life* it is true, does 

It Madf Hi vi Sw inf. -Good O'd FeNow t "Ah, how it warm'* my heart to 
we their playing their little inn- cent tricks nn the first of April 1 Uwsd to do it 
niyif If whcri ] uas a k*y* Bui they Caii'l fool tW, though— -I'm too old a bird 
for that." 


characteristic drawings are the quietly 
satirical ones> social skits, fad probing, 
with now and then a political cartoon 
that hits the public and politicians 
hard and makes them think. The 
artistic quality of Life is high, and to 
be represented in it is looked upon 
by the aspirant to honours in 
humorous draughtsmanship as no 
small evidence of merit 

They Met by Chakcr.— Thin Bather : " I beg pardon, sir. 
H«« wm rirtt met before?" 

Stout Bather ; " Pcwnibly. sir. I am EloL>son t the inventor of 
* BMkoh's Great Anti-Fat Remedy.' M 

Thin Bather: ,i, Ari t I knrw 1 cjhM not \*e misiaken, I am 
Professor Dingbats, of the School of Physical Culture, Shake I" 

DRAWN BY F, OFfSfi TOB 4t I'fCK." 

not taboo the exaggerated— indeed, some of 
its most marked "hits" have been made 
with the drawings of Mayer and others, who 
are not at all times rigidly exact, but its 

VoJ. KXiiL-39 

MK. ¥* OIWJt + 




In England the work of Mr. C, D. Gibson 
is perhaps better known than that of Mr 
Opper. It has , at all events, been more 
widely published His "Education of Mr. 
Pipp" series and the H Widow and Her 
Friend" series have been 
as highly appreciated here 
as in America, As a 
satirical draughtsman he 
has no superior in the 
United States, and his 
capacity for hard work 
and the prosperity that 
has come to him are un- 
disputed. " There was a 
time," in the words of one 
who knows him, "when 
Gibson's hardest hard 
work produced small 
results, when printers used 
to carry home his originals 
because no one else wanted 
them/ 1 but that time is 
past. "He had no one to help him. He 
worked for a living and studied at the same 
time," says another, " While he was making 
an artist of himself, he supported himself 
and several others who needed him." He 
began by offering a certain periodical a 

drawing for 50 cents. The paper paid him 

4 dollars for it He is now said to receivb 

^5,000 a year. Mr. Gibson is thirty-four. 
One either likes Gibson's work or doesn't 

Some artists see nothing in it except mere 
black lines. Other artists 
revel in the expressiveness 
and accuracy of those 
lines. All his work is 
pen - and - ink, He says 
himself, "I thought it all 
out long ago, and decided 
that pen and ink was the 
best thing to use, and IVe 
stuck to it in spite of 
temptations. It's a hard 
medium, a cruel medium 
— crueller than all others 
— but that only makes it 
valuable." He was once 
asked about the "Gibson 
Girl "— whom merely to 
mention calls up to mind 

at once a hundred and one drawings in 

which this "girl " has appeared. 

u Pshaw ! Thafs n on sense," he answered. 

"There is no Gibson girl. There never 

was. 1 ' 

" But people say/' remarked the inter- 

J4(s Clre.- Might man? of a young man who contemplated RiarVyliy fw nftwley! 

P k A ™ bv «, a *,„*,« ko« tklMRSITY OF MICHIGAN 



viewer, " that there is, and that you invented 
her, and that she's the type of American 
girl, and all the rest of it" 

"There's no reason why any particular 
type should be called the— er— Gibson girl, 
I've drawn scores of girls,'* 

"Well, Fd like to have you tell me about 
the— I won't call her the Gibson girl, since 
you don't like it —but the American girl, the 
one with the patrician eyebrows and the 
deliciously disdainful pout." 


"When you created her, did you think 
you were expressing a national type -that 
you had discovered the American girl ? " 

"Very humdrum. Came to New York to 
study. Spent a year in Paris, a few years 
at Julien's; studied by myself a good deal" 

" Did you dream of being a great painter 
or a great illustrator ? " 

"Didn't dream of being anything great ; 
just wanted to learn how to draw," 

The boy's wish has been gratified. 

The work of the American artist, especially 
that of Mr, Gibson, has already attained 
considerable vogue in England owing to 
the arrangements made by Messrs, James 
Henderson and Sons, of Red Lion House, 
Red Lion Court, Fleet Street, for the 
reproduction in England of the drawings 


Matrimonial Misfits. — 12.30 a.m. : The hunband who uants 10 go home and ihe wife who doesn't. 


" There is no American girl. I mean, 
there are hundreds of types of American 

"You liked that type yourself?" 

"Yes, and made a tew drawings of it, and 
found that other people liked it, but as for 
having it accepted as the American girl, 
why, I never dreamed of such a thing." 

Which was about as far as the interviewer 
got on this particular point. 

The artist was also asked about his life. 
"Have any early struggles? Live in a 
garret and cook your own meals? Work 
for a living in the daytime and study at 
night ? Anything like that ? " 

" No, nothing like that," he answered. 

appearing in Puck, Judgt \ and Life^ which, 
it is almost needless to add, are the 
principal humorous papers in the United 
States. In thanking Messrs. Henderson for 
the wide privilege given us for reproducing 
ihe drawings which illustrate this and the 
following article, we would take occasion to 
compliment them upon the attractiveness of 
Tutorial Comedy and Snap Shofs^ in which 
the work of the American artist has been put 
before the English public, a compliment in 
which the American artist will willingly join. 
In this article we have paid little attention 
to the "cartoon "—that form of humorous 
or satirical draughts miiship which plays such 
an ^fl^TWMlCHlfl*. political history 



of the United States— mainly 
because this article is written 
for English people* who, 
although they might appreciate 
the skill of the cartoonist, 
might have difficulty in catch- 
ing the spirit of his cartoon. 
Except when dealing with an 
international topic— and some- 
times even then — the Ameri- 
can cartoon is distinctly in- 
sular, and being devoted 
almost exclusively to politics, 
national and municipal, 
wealth, its sociological merits 
and demerits, and like sub- 
jects, can hardly find a proper 
place here. 


From a Photo, bv Homer, Hrvoklyn.. 

If cartoonists may thus 
lightly be ridden over, not so 
with the cartoon itself. The 
development of the political 
cartoon in America is part — we 
had almost written part and 
parcel of the development of 
American humorous illustra- 
tion. Its potency as a weapon 
of politics was shown when 
Thomas Nast — now almost 
forgotten as a name — drew for 
Harper's Weekly his un forget- 
able cartoons which exposed 
the manipulations of the 
"Tweed Ring "and laid low 
the greatest of America's 
H bosses." All of Nast's work 

was done in black 

and white, but with 

the advent of 

Joseph Keppler, 

who founded Puck 

in 1876, a change 

took place. The 

stri k ing 

feature of 

Puck was 

i t s col- 
oured car 





"Our Girls Are Pretty Gooji Shots Tr*a" 


toons; and from 1876 till 

j 894, when the great artist 

died, the work of Keppler 

was a never-failing influence 

on the political thought of 

the day. He prick td the 

pretensions of many a politician, made 

Presidents, and unmade candidates for 

the Presidential chair. He was succeeded 

by his son, who has done many admirable 


On this page are reproduced some 
specimens of the work of Mr. Albert 1). 
Blashfield, whose popularity is deservedly 
great. Many will recall a much -talked -of 
centre page which he did for Lift about 
four years ago during the bicycle craze, 
representing a rector and his curate on a 
tandem bicycle, with a boy choir leading 
on bicycles, followed by the congregation 
awheel, while the rector was preaching 
a sernionPrripm^Kv§anZ//fV way of deal 

■"B UWIV BPH»I ?r*€»f 4filOMI6M*£ on church 



attendance — and a more spirited and pointed 
drawing has rarely been seen in that paper. 
Mr. Blash field was born in New York City 
and educated at the Brooklyn 
Polytechnic Institute- He 
received his art-training at the 
Art Students' League in New 
York City, after which he 
visited most of the European 
art centres. His work has 
appeared also in Puck and 
Harper* s Bazaar. 

Another well - known Life 
artist is Mr. K T. Richards, 
some specimens of whose work 
we reproduce. Mr. Richards 
got his first instruction in art at 
the Pennsylvania Academy of 
Fine Arts in Philadelphia 
(where he was born), and later 
entered the studio of Edmund 
B. Benseil, where he served 
three years as an illustrator, 
1( I have always considered these three years/ 1 
he writes, " to have been the most valuable 
of any during my early career* I drew con- 

" Ye won" I gel off, hey 

John A. Mitchell, of Life. "It is," Mr. 
Richards says, "to Mr, Mitchell's generous 
treatment and able criticisms that I owe 
whatever merit my later work 
may possess/' That it pos- 
sessed merit was shown by 
the fact that he was repre- 
sented in the American ex- 
hibit at the Paris Exhibition 
of 1900^ and by the offer of 
the position of cartoonist on 
the JVew York Herald in May, 
1901, a position that Mr, 
Richards still holds. 

It is with regret that we find 
ourselves unable to reproduce 
a notable cartoon drawn by 
Mr. Richards for the Herald 
during the recent anti-Tam- 
many campaign. It repre- 
sented the Democratic forces 
in full retreat from Moscow, 
M Boss n Croker being the 
Napoleon of the cartoon. This particular 
cartoon attracted wide attention, and the 
original was secured by Mr. Seth Low, the 

successful candidate 
for Mayor of New 

The success of 
Piiiki which has, as 
one writer has said, 
for twenty-six years 
* "kept the American 
people in good 
humour with its 
soc ial ecce n tr i ci t i es 
and in bad temper 
with its political 
monstrosities," influenced the foundation 
of Judge, which, like Ruck, has made a 

stantly on the wood 
block — a method that 
has gone entirely out 
of use now — and the 
necessity of having 
work finished in a 
limited time and the 
variety of subjects 
that came to hand 
proved a valuable 
though arduous dis- 
cipline/ 1 

In 1890, after some 
training in pen -draw- 
ing, Mr, Richards 
went lo New York 
and there met Mr, 

- * > 



(tw prn:nj7-3monn 

" Whoa !— that ! 






feature of coloured cartoons. Ltfa which 
makes no feature of coloured work, was 
established by Mr. John A. Mitchell 
on January 3rd, 1883, It broke new 
ground in American humorous journalism, 
and its success has been due not only to 
the artists who have been encouraged and 
developed by it, but also to the admirable 
qualities which Mr- Mitchell possesses as an 
editor and satirist. 

It may be added that nearly every artist 
whose work has appeared in Puck % Jud&e^ 
md Life lias, at some time or other, done 
cartoons. Some have been successes, others 

tion is topical* uniformly good, often really 
funny, and, alas ! ephemera L It passes from 
view quickly, having done its work. 

Apart from cartoons, there is a growing 
and substantial demand by the American 
Press for all forms of humour, and this 
demand gives employ to thousands of artists 
whose work never gets into the great comic 
weeklies. The American Sunday newspaper 
— that colossal and all-comprehending pro- 
duct of modem journalism — in nine cases out 
of ten has a sup: lement devoted entirely to 
funny drawings and fugitive fun. The material 
is provided by staff-artists, outside contributors, 

A Joyous Thanksgiving in Old New England. 


have not, for cartooning requires not always 
that which k merely funny, but that which 
enforces truth. Those who have been 
successful have quickly found their way to 
special positions on the daily Press, for the 
political cartoon in the American daily 
paper has rapidly become an institution. 
Opper, for instance, is now on the Journal % 
and much of his best— certainly his latest and 
most mature work, as we have remarked — is 
appearing therein, Davenport also draws for 
the Journal^ Richards for the Herald, and 
from the Atlantic to the Pacific there is a 
cartoonist on nearly every paper, who tries as 
best he can to reflect and comment upon the 
doings of the day in picture. Such illustra- 

and the scissors. If truth must be told, the art 
is not of the highest. The drawings are often 
abominations, exaggerated and vulgar, and 
compare in thefr quality — or absence of quality 
— with many of the cheap forms of comic 
journalism in vogue in England. Many of 
these supplements are turned out in colour, 
and arc fairly good examples of this class of 
rapid work. The public likes it, apparently, 
but one must not forget that the best and 
most respected journals in America avoid 
it. Such "art ?J is left to the u largest circu- 
lations/' which appeal, we think we may say 
rightly, to the semi -cultured of America's 
great municipal papulations. 

The ldlldfe£MJTi'r0lFuUii4#IGftit been fol- 



lowed up by the establishment of syndicates 
—to which some clever artists are usually 
attached — which supply some of the journals 
in large cities with a 4 * comic 
page " or individual drawings. 
These are syndicated and 
H re-leased " by a certain date 
in order that theft may be pre- 
vented. The drawings are 
rarely of high quality, but the 
artist gets an enormous public 
by the simultaneous publica- 
tion of his work in different 
parts of the great continent. 
Readers of the comic Press 
both of America and England 
have perhaps noticed that 
many of these drawings have 
also been reproduced in 
London, This is explained 
by the fact that English agents 
have been appointed by these 
various syndicates for the dis- 
position of their wares in London* 

The versatility of Mr. Henry Mayer's work 
is exceeded only by its cosmopolitanism. Its 
versatility is, perhaps, best shown by the draw- 

has been proved by the avidity with which 
the humorous papers in America, England, 
Germany, and France have accepted his 
original work. It has appeared 
in nearly every American pub- 
lication that pays attention to 
the light side of life, and it is 
as cordially welcomed by 
tiUgende Blatter \n Germany, 
Le Rtrt in Paris, and The King 
in London as it has been by 
the publications of his adopted 
country. For Mr. Mayer is 
not American, but German in 
parentage. His father was a 
London merchant, but Mayer 
was born in Germany, to which 
he later returned for education 
in Worms on the Rhine. He 
began as a clerk in London, 
then wanted to see the world, 
went to Mexico, Texas, and 
landed in Cincinnati and 
Chicago, His first trip back to Europe was 
made in 1890, when he formed the pleasur- 
able connection with Fliegtndt Blatter that 
has existed to this day. 

ings which we reproduce. Its cosmopolitanism Such a wide experience of the world has 

Spaghetti ako Gesticulation,— A Tale ok am Italian Dinxisu Ta^h, 

pkawn hv ii»NKY ma ye* ^f^A^I TV OF MICHIGAN 



"And they did." 
pie awn nv HENRY MA VHP FOR " 

naturally developed the cosmopolitan quality 
already mentioned. The man who, when he 
was in Mexico, worked in a " store " and 
sold, as he put it, "coal-oil, beer, 'pants/ 
molasses, mils, and other household furnish- 
ings," was at that time gaining a knowledge 
of human life and character that has stood 
him in excellent stead, and if his work is 
essentially German in touch, ihe full humour 

of it belongs not 
to one people, but 
to the laugh-loving 

To recount all the 
subjects touched 
by Mayers facile 
pen would be to 
recount the un- 
countable. Poli- 
tics, street - cars, 
telephones, heral- 
dry, Democrats, 
Re pit b 1 i t a ns , 
Populists, "kids*" 
horses, ostriches, 
Jews, Irishmen, 
barbers, soldiers, 
Egyptians, dogs, 
cats, gentlemen, 
bicycles, school- 
teachers, cows, scr 
rants, astronomy, 
vfJ' giraffes— in fact* it 

would tire one to 
read the amazing list* Kach subject is treated 
with care and precision, with a noteworthy 
manipulation of heavy blacks and tints. He 
is one of the few American artists who are not 
known by a "trade-mark." There is in 
America, for instance, a "Gibson girl,' 7 a 
"Taylor maid," a "Stanlawsgirl," a " Wenzell 
woman/' and a "Sullivan! manikin," just as 
in London humorous art there Is a u Phil 

An Illusion 

l£ What a f.vau\\ waist she ha* ! * Qfl^^athfrctftTI neck/' 

™ WM B¥ HB " V U * VB " hu * fl ffftfcSITY OF MICHIGAN 




I want thet big one over there (' 



M Sir ! Thai's me husband I " 
DRAWN BY hinkv MAVER raw "life/ 

May 'Arriet, 13 but in Mayer's work there is 
little that suggests the slavish self-imitation 
and fatiguing repetition of types that not un- 
commonly mark the beginning of a clever 
artist's retrogression. 
" I believe," said Mr. 




my * Worms' Eye Views * are about as original 
as anything I have ever created* In line, I 
believe * Spaghetti and Gesticulation 1 to be 
the best." The 
latter scries of 
drawings is 
among those we 
reproduce. Men- 
tion of the former 
recalls the dis- 
tinct sensation 
which these re- 
markably clever 
specimens of 
Ci upside - down - 
eiy " — if that 
expresses it — 
caused in the 
United States 
when they first 
appeared in Life. 

In themselves 
Vj|. xvtii — 40 


To he 

they were sufficient to give the artist a lasting 
name in American humorous art. 

Mayer is something more than a mere 
humorous artist He is a born humorist 
He differs from many in that he makes all 
his own jokes and thus gets that happy 
combination which inevitably results when 
a clever artist illustrates his own bright 
thought The jokes are terse and to the point, 

and instantane- 
ous effect is at- 
tained by sheer 
simplicity* He 
is a good mimic 
and possesses 
peculiar powers 
of facial distor- 
tion. He draws, 
at times, before a 
mirror, in order 
to get accurate 
effects of such 
distortion, al- 
though in the fin- 
ished drawing it 
is difficult to de- 
tect any trace of 
the artist's face* 

* l Do you wish all four 

moustaches ended?' 


con tinned.) 


The House Under the Sea. 

By Max Pemberton, 



T was a great surprise to me 
that there should have been 
one of Edmond Oerny's rnen 
left in the bungalow ; and 
when I heard his voice 1 stood 
for a full minute, uncertain 
whether to go on or to draw back. The light 
of the lamp was very bright; I had Dolly 

* ( \Valk right in here/ 1 he cried, opening 
a door behind him and showing me a room 
I had not entered when I visited Madame 
Czerny. "Walk right in and don't gather 
daisies on the way. You've been a pleasure 
cruise in the fog, I suppose — well, that's a 
sailor all the time— just all the time," 

He opened the door, I say, upon this, and 
when we had followed him into the room he 
shut it as quickly. It was not a very large 


Venn in my arms, remember, and it was all 
Seth Barker's work to bring in Mister Bligh, 
so that no one will wonder nt my hesitation, 
or the questions I put to myself as to how 
many men were in the house with the 
stranger, or what business kept him there 
when the island was a death-trap, These 
questions, however, the man answered for 
himself before many minutes hnd passed ; 
and, moreover, a seaman's instinct seemed to 
tell me that he was a friend 


apartment, but I noticed at once that the 
windows were blocked and curtained, and 
that half the space was lumbered up with 
great machines which seemed made up of 
glass bowls and jars ; while a flame of gas 
was roaring out of an iron tube and a 
current of delicious fresh air blowing upon 
our faces. Whatever we were in for, whether 
friendship or the other thing, a man could 
breathe here, and that was something to be 
thankful for, Original from 




" We were caught in the woods and ran 
for it," said I, thinking it time to make my 
explanations; "it may have been a fool's 
errand, but it has brought us to a wise man's 
door. You know what the lad's trouble is, 
or you wouldn't be in this house, sir. I'll 
thank you for any kindness to him." 

He turned a pleasant face toward me and 
bade me lay Dolly on the sofa near the 
flaming burner. Peter Bligh was sitting on a 
chair, swearing, I fear, as much as he was 
coughing. Seth Barker, who had the lungs 
of a bull, looked as though he had found 
good grass. The fog wasn't made, I do 
believe, which would harm him. As for the 
doctor himself, he seemed like a perplexed 
man who has time for one smile and no 

" The lad will be all right in five minutes," 
said he, seriously ; " there is air enough here, 
we being five men, for," he appeared to 
pause, and then he added, "for just three days. 
After that — why, yes, we'll begin to think 
after that." 

I did not know what to say to him, nor, 
I am sure, did the others. Dolly Venn had 
already opened his eyes and lay back, white 
and bloodless, on the sofa. A hissing sound 
of escaping gas was in the room. I breathed 
so freely that a sense of excitement, almost 
of intoxication, came upon me. The doctor 
moved about quietly and methodically, now 
looking to his burners, now at the machines. 
Five minutes came and went before he put 
another question. 

"What kept you from the shelter?" he 
asked, at last. I knew then that he believed 
us to be Edmond Czerny's men ; and I made 
up my mind instantly what to do. 

" Prudence kept us, doctor," said I (for 
doctor plainly he was) ; " prudence, the same 
sense that turns a fly from a spider's web. It 
is fair that you should know the story. We 
haven't come to Ken's Island because we are 
Edmond Czerny's friends; nor will he call us 
that. Ask Madame Czerny the next time 
you meet her, and she'll tell you what 
brought us here. You are acting well toward 
us and confidence is your due, so I say that 
the day when Edmond Czerny finds us on 
this shore will be a bad one for him or a bad 
one for us, as the case may be. Let it begin 
with that, and afterwards we shall sail in open 

I said all this just naturally, not wishing 
him to think that I feared Edmond Czerny 
or was willing to hoist false colours. Enemy 
or friend, I meant to be honest with him. 
It was some surprise to me, I musf say, when 

he went on quietly with his work, moving 
from place to place, now at the gas-burner, 
now at his machine, just for all the world as 
though this visitation had not disturbed him. 
When he spoke it was to ask a question 
about Miss Ruth. 

" Madame Czerny," said he, quietly ; 
" there is a Madame Czerny, then ? " 

Now, if he had struck me with his hand I 
could not have been more surprised at his 
ignorance. Just think of it — here was a man 
left behind on Ken's Island when all the riff- 
raff there had fled to some shelter on the 
sea ; a man working quietly, I was sure, to 
discover what he could of the gases which 
poisoned us ; a man in Mistress Ruth's own 
house who did not even know her name. 
Nothing more wonderful had I heard that 
night. And the way he put the question, 
raising his eyebrows a little, and looking up 
over his long, white apron ! 

" Not heard of Madame Czerny ! " cried 
I, in astonishment, " not heard of her — why, 
what shore do you hail from, then? Don't 
you know that she's his wife, doctor — his 
wife ? " 

He turned to his bottles and went on 
arranging them. He was speaking and 
acting now at the same time. 

" I came ashore with Prince Czerny when 
he landed here three days ago. He did not 
speak of his wife. There are others in 
America who would be interested in the 
news—young ladies, I think." 

He paused for a little while, and then he 
said, quietly : — 

" You would be friends of the Princess's, 
no doubt?" 

" Princess be jiggered," said I ; " that is to 
say, Heaven forgive me, for I love Miss Ruth 
better than my own sister. He's no more a 
prince than you are, though that's a liberty, 
seeing that I don't know your name, doctor. 
He's just Edmond Czerny, a Hungarian 
musician, who caught a young girl's fancy in 
the South, and is making her suffer for it 
here in the Pacific. Why, just think of it. 
A young American girl " 

He stopped me abruptly, swinging round 
on his heel and showing the first spark of 
animation he had as yet been guilty of. 

"An American girl?" cried he. 

" As true as the Gospels, an American 
girl. She was the daughter of Rupert Bellen- 
den, who made his money on the Western 
American Railroad. If you remember the 
Elbe going down, you won't ask what became 
of him. His son. Kenrick Bellenden, is in 

A TIMIIy otfflffl (0 " une • *"** 



to let him know how it fares with his sister 
on this cursed shore, That's why my own 
ship sails for 'Frisco this day —at least, I 
hope and believe so, for otherwise she's at the 
bottom of the sea," 

1 told the story with some heat, for amaze- 
ment is the enemy of a slow tongue ; but my 
excitement was not shared by him, and for 
some minutes afterwards he stood like a man 
in a reverie. 

" You came in your own ship ! " he ex- 
claimed next "Why, yes, you would not 
have walked. Did Madame C/erny ask you 
here ? " 

"It was a promise to her/' said L M She 
left the money with her 
lawyers for me to bring a 
ship to Ken's Island twelve 
months after her marriage. 
That promise I kept, 
doctor, and here I am and 
here are my ship-mates, 
and Heaven knows what is 
to be the end of it and the 
end of us ! " 

He agreed to that with 
one of those expressive 
nods which spared him a 
deal of talk, By-arid by, 
without referring to the 
matter any more, he turned 
suddenly to Peter Bligh 
and exclaimed : — 

u Halloa, my man, and 
what's the matter with 
you ? " 

Now, Peter Bligh sat up 
as stiff as a board and 
answered directly. 

" Hunger, doctor, that's 
the matter with me ! If 
you'll add thirst to it, 
youVe about named my 
complaint, 1 ' 

" Fog out of your lungs, 

" Be sure and it is. I 
could dance at a fair and 
not be particular about the 
women. Put me alongside 
a beef-steak and you shall 
see soni e 1 o ve - m a k in g. Aye, 
doctor. Til never get my 
bread as a living skeleton, 
the saints be good to me, my hold's too big 
for that ! ,h 

It was like Mister Bligh, and amused the 
stranger very much, Just as if to answer 
Peter, the doctor crossed the room and 

opened a big cupboard by the window, which 
I saw to be full of victuals. 

" 1 forget to eat, myself, when the instru- 
ments hustle me," said he, thoughtfully ; 
41 that's a bad habit, anyway. Suppose you 
display your energy by setting supper. There 
are tinned things here and eggs, I believe. 
You'll find firewood and fresh meat in the 
kitchen yonder. Here's something to keep 
ihe fog out of your lungs while you get it." 

He tossed a respirator across the table, 
and Peter Bligh was away to- the kitchen 
before you could count two- It was a relief 
to have something to do, and right quickly 
our fellows did it We were all sitting at the 


supper table when half an hour had passed 
and eating like men who had fasted for a 
month, Tomorrow troubled the seamen but 
little. It did. not .trouble Peter Bligh or Seth 
Barker that iiigl^l*ffi9m 




A strange scene, you will admit, and one 
not readily banished from the memory. For 
my part, I see that room, I see that picture 
many a time in the night watches on my 
ship or in the dreaming moments of a sea- 
man's day. The great machines of glass and 
brass rise up again about me as they rose 
that night. I watch the face of the American 
doctor, sharp and clear-cut and boyish, with 
the one black curl across the forehead. I 
see Peter Bligh bent double over the table, 
little Dolly Venn's eyes looking bravely at 
me as he tries to tell us that all is well 
with him. The same curious sensations of 
doubt and uncertainty come again to plague 
me. What escape was there from that place ? 
What escape from the island ? Who was to 
help us in our plight ? Who was to befriend 
little Ruth Bellenden now ? Would the ship 
ever come back ? Was she above or below 
the sea ? Would the sleep-time endure long, 
and should we live through it ? Ah ! that 
was the thing to ask them. More especially 
to ask this clever man, whose work I made 
sure it was to answer the question. 

"We thank you, doctor," I said to him, 
at one time ; " we owe our lives to you 
this night. We sha'n't forget that, be sure 
of it." 

" I'll never eat a full meal again but I'll 

remember the name of Doctor — Doctor 

which reminds me that I don't know your 
name, sir," added Peter Bligh, clumsily. The 
doctor smiled at his humour. 

" Dr. Duncan Gray, if it's anything to 
remember. Ask for DunGan Gray, of 
Chicago, and one man in a thousand will 
tell you that he makes it his business to 
write about poisons, not knowing anything 
of them. Why, yes, poison brought me here 
and poison will move me on again ; at least, 
I begin to imagine it. Poison, you see, holds 
the aces." 

" It's a fearsome place, truly," said I, " and 
wonderful that Europe knows so little about 
it. I've seen Ken's Island on the charts 
any time these fifteen years, but never a 
whisper have I heard of sleep-time or sun- 
time or any other death-talk such as I've 
heard these last three days. You'll be here, 
doctor, no doubt, to ascertain the truth of it ? 
If my common sense did not tell me as much, 
the machinery would. It's a great thing to 
be a man of your kind, and I'd give much if 
my education had led me that way. But I 
was only at a country grammar school, and 
what I couldn't get in at one end the master 
never could at the other. Aye, I'd give much 
to know what you know this night ! " 

He smiled a little queerly at the com- 
pliment, I thought, and turned it off with a 

" I begin to know how little I know, and 
that's a good start," said he. "Possibly 
Ken's Island will make that little less. The 
master of Ken's Island is generously send- 
ing me to Nature's university. I think that 
I understand why he permitted me to come 
here. Why, yes, it was smart, and the man 
who first set curiosity going about Prince 
Czerny in Chicago is well out of Prince 
Czerny's way. I must reckon all this up, 
Captain — Captain " 

44 Jasper Begg," said I, " at one time master 
of Ruth Bellenden's yacht, the Manhattan" 

"And Peter Bligh, his mate, who is a 
Christian man when the victuals are right." 

Seth Barker said nothing, but I named him 
and spoke about Dolly Venn. We five, I 
think, began to know each other better 
from that time, and to fall together as com- 
rades in a common misfortune. Parlous as 
our plight was, we had food and drink and 
tobacco for our pipes afterwards ; and a 
seaman needs little more than that to make 
him happy. Indeed, we should have passed 
the night well enough, forgetting all that had 
gone before and must come after, but for a 
weird reminder at the hour of midnight, 
which compelled us to recollect our strange 
situation and all that it betided. 

Comfortable we were, I say, for Dr. Gray 
had found fine berths for us all : Dolly on 
the sofa, his skipper in an arm-chair, Peter 
Bligh and Seth Barker on rugs by the 
window, and he himself in a hammock slung 
across the kitchen door. We had said 
"good-night" to one another and were 
settling off to sleep, when there came a 
weird, wild call from the grounds without ; 
and so dismal was it and so like the cries of 
men in agony that we all sprang to our feet 
and stood, with every faculty waking, to listen 
to the horrible outcry. For a moment no man 
moved, so full of terror were those sounds ; 
but the doctor, coming first to his senses, 
strode toward the window and pulled the heavy 
curtain back from it. Then, in the dazzling 
light, that wonderful gold-blue light which 
hovered in mist-clouds about the gardens of 
the bungalow, I saw a spectacle which froze 
my very blood. Twenty men and women, 
perhaps, some of them Europeans, some 
natives, some dressed in seamen's dress, 
some in rags, were dancing a wild, fantastic, 
maddening dance which no foaming Dervish 
could hawe. surpassed, aye, or imitated, in 

hi lPMfflF*iG^ irling round and 



round, extending their arms to the sky, some- 
times casting themselves headlong on the 
ground, biting the earth with savage teeth, 
tearing their flesh with knives, one or two 
falling stone-dead before our very eyes, these 
poor people in their delirium cried like 
animals, and filled the whole woods with their 
melancholic wailing. For ten minutes, it may 
be, the fit endured ; then one by one they 
sank to the earth in the most fearful eontor- 



Voir have been informed that Dr. Gray 
promised us three days' security in the 
bungalow, and I will now tell you how it 
came about that we quitted the house next 
morning, and set out anew upon the strangest 
errand of them all. 

There's an old saying amongst seamen 
that the higher the storm the deeper the 


tions of limb and fare and body, and, a 
great silence coming upon the house, we 
saw them there in that cold, clear light, 
outposts of the death which Kerfs Island 

We saw the thing, we knew its dreadful 
truth, yet many minutes passed before one 
among us opened his lips* The spell was 
still on us a spell of dread and fear I pray 
that few nun may know. 

4i The laughing fever," exclaimed the 
doctor, at last, letting the curtain fall hack, 
with trembling hand. " Yes, I have heard 
of that somewhere," 

And then he said, pointing to the lamp 
Upon the table : — 

th Three days, my friends, three days 
between us and that ! . f™* OOO f i~* 


sleep, and this, maybe, is true, if you speak 
of a ship and of an English crew upon her. 
]t rakes something more than a capful of 
wind to blow sleep from a sailor's eyes ; and 
though you were to tell him that the Judg- 
ment was for to-morrow, I do believe he 
would take bis four hours off all the same. 
But at Ken's Island things went differently ; 
and two, at least, of our party knew little 
sleep that night. Again and again I turned 
on my bed to see I>r. Gray busy before his 
furnace and to bear Peter Bligh snoring as 
though he'd crack the window-glass. Never- 
theless, sleep came to me slowly, and when I 
slept I dreamed of the island and all the 
strange things which had happened there 
since first we set foot upon it. Many sounds 
and shapes v^ig/flwefflp 'ift my dream, and 




the sweet figure of Ruth Bellenden with them 
all. I saw her, brave and patient, in the 
gardens of the bungalow ; the words which 
she had spoken, " For Heaven's sake come 
back to me!" troubled my ears like the 
music of the sea. Sometimes, as dreams 
will, the picture was but a vague shadow, and 
would send me hither and thither, now to 
the high seas and an English port, again to 
the island and the bay wherein I first landed. 
I remember, more than all, a dream which 
carried me to the water's edge, with my hand 
in hers, and showed me a great storm and 
inky clouds looming above the reef and the 
lightning playing vividly, and a tide rising so 
swiftly that it threatened to engulf us and 
flood the very land on which we stood. And 
then I awoke, and the dawn light was in the 
room and Dr. Gray himself stood watching 
by the window. 

" Yes," he said, as though answering some 
remark of mine, " we shall have a storm — 
and soon." 

" You do not say so ! " cried I ; " why, 
that's my dream ! I must have heard the 
thunder in my sleep." 

He drew the curtain back to show me the 
angry sky, which gave promise of thunder 
and of a hurricane to follow ; the air of the 
room seemed heavy as that of a prison-house. 
In the gardens outside a shimmer of yellow 
light reminded me of a London fog as once 
I breathed it by Temple Bar. No longer 
could you distinguish the trees or the bushes 
or even the mass of the woods beyond the 
gate. From time to time the loom of the 
cloud would lift and a beam of sunlight 
strike through it, revealing a golden path and 
a bewitching vision of grass and roses all 
drooping in the heat. Then the ray was 
lost again, and the yellow vapour steamed up 

"A storm undoubtedly," said the doctor, 
at last, "and a bad one, too. We should 
learn something from this, captain. Why, 
yes, it looks easy — after the storm the wind." 

" And the wind will clear Ken's Island of 
fog," cried I. " Ah, of course, it will. We 
shall breathe just now and go about like sane 
men. I am younger for hearing it, doctor." 

He said, " Yes, it is good news," and 
then put some sticks into the grate and 
began to make a fire. The others still slept 
heavily. Little Dolly Venn muttered in his 
sleep a name I thought I had heard before, 
and, truth to tell, it was something like 
" Rosamunda." The doctor himself was as 
busy as a housemaid. 

44 Yes," he continued, presently, " we should 

be pretty well through with the sleep-time, 
and after that, waking. Does anything occur 
to you ? " 

I sat up in the chair and looked at him 
closely. His own manner of speech was 

44 Why, yes," said I, "something does occur. 
For one thing, we may have company." 

He lit a match and watched the wood 
blazing up the chimney. A bit of fire is 
always a cheerful thing, and it did me good 
to se^ it that morning. 

44 Czerny has more than a hundred men," 
said he, alter some reflection. 44 We are four 
and one, which make five ; five exactly." 

Now, this was the first time he had con- 
fessed to anything which might let a man 
know where his sympathies lay. Friend or 
enemy, yesterday taught me nothing about 
him. I learnt afterwards that he had once 
known Kenrick Bellenden in Philadelphia. 
I think he was glad to have four comrades 
with him on Ken's Island. 

44 If you mean thereby, doctor, that you'd 
join us," was my reply, 44 you couldn't tell 
me better news. You know why I came 
here and you know why I stay. It may mean 
much to Madame Czerny to have such a 
friend as you. What can be done by five 
men on this cursed shore shall be done, I 
swear ; but I am glad that you are with us — 
very glad." 

I really meant it, and spoke from my 
heart : but he was not a demonstrative man, 
and he rarely answered one directly as one 
might have wished. On this occasion, I 
remember, he went about his work for a little 
while before he spoke again ; and it was not 
until the coffee was boiling on the hob that he 
came across to me and, seating himself on 
the arm of my chair, asked, abruptly : — 

44 Do you know what fool's errand brought 
me to this place?" 

44 1 have imagined it," said I. 44 You wanted 
to know the truth about the sleep-time." 

He laughed that queer little laugh which 
expressed so much when you heard it. 

44 No," said he, 44 I do not care a dime 
either way ! I just came along to advertise 
myself. Ken's Island and its secrets are my 
newspaper. When I go back to New York 
people will say, * That's the specialist, Duncan 
Gray, who wrote about narcotics and their 
uses.' They'll come and see me because the 
newspapers tell them to. We advertise or 
die, nowadays, captain, and the man who 
gets a foothold up above must take some 
risks. I took them when I shipped with 

Edm ° n W0FMICHI6AN 

um 1 



It was an honest story, and I liked the 
man the better for it. No word of mine 
intervened before he went on with it 

1 i Luck put mc in the way of the thing," 
he continued, the mood being on him 
now and my silence helping him ; " I met 
Oerny's skipper in 'Frisco, and he was a 
talker. There's nothing more dangerous 
than a loose tongue. The man said that 
his master was the second human being to 
set foot on Ken's Archipelago. I knew 
that it was not true. A hundred year* 
ago Jacob Hoyt, a Hutch man, was marooned 
on this place and lived to tell the story of it. 
The record lies in the library at Washington ; 
I've read it." 

He said this with a low chuckle* like a man 
in possession of a secret which might he of 
great value to him* I did not see the point 
of it at the time, but I saw it later, as you 
shall hear. 

"Yes," he rattled on, 
"Edniond Gzemy holds 
a full hand j but I may yet 
draw fours. He's a clever 
man, too, and a deep one, 
Weil see who's the deeper, 
and we will begin soon, 
Captain Begg — very soon. 
The sleep-time J s through, 
I guess, and this means 

Now, this was spoken 
of the storm without, and 
a heavy clap of thunder, 
breaking at that moment, 
pointed his words as 
nothing else could have 
done, I had many ques- 
tions yet to ask him* such 
as how it was that he per- 
suaded Czerny to take him 
aboard {though a man who 
knew so much would have 
been a da ngerous customer 
to leave behind), but the 
rolling sounds awoke the 
olhers, and Peter Bligh, 
jumping up half asleep, 
asked if anyone knocked. 

41 1 thought it was the 
devil with the hot water — 
and bedad it is ! " cries 
he, (£ Is the house struck, 
or am I dreaming it, 
doctor? It's a fearsome 
sound, truly." 

Peter meant it as a bit 
of his humour. I do 

: igifizea By \j 

believe; but little he knew how near the 
truth his guess was. The storm, which had 
threatened US since dawn, now burst with a 
splendour I have never seen surpassed. A 
very sheet of raging fire opened up the livid 
sky. The crashing thunder shook the 
timbers of the house until you might have 
thought that the very roof was coming in. In 
the gardens themselves, leaping into your 
view and passing out of it again as a picture 
shuttered by light, great trees were split and 
broken, the woods fired, the gravel driven up 
in a shower of pelting hail I have seen 
storms in my life a-many, but never one so 
loud and so angry as the storm of that ebb- 
ing sleep-time, There were moments when 
a whirlwind of terrible sounds seemed to 
envelop us, and the very heavens might have 
been rolling asunder. We said that the bun- 
galow could not stand, and we were right* 


RLWIND OF riav. ±-&EF r im&\Q£Sk' 




Now, this was a bad prophecy ; but the 
fulfilment came more swiftly and more surely 
than any of us had looked for. Indeed, 
Dolly Venn was scarce upon his feet, and 
the sleep hardly out of Seth Barker's eyes, 
when the room in which we stood was 
all filled by a scathing flame of crimson 
light, and, a whirlwind of fire sweeping 
about us, it seemed to wither and burn 
everything in its path and to scorch our very 
limbs as it passed them by. To this there 
succeeded an overpowering stench of sulphur, 
and ripping sounds as of wood bursting in 
splinters, and beams falling, and the crackling 
of timber burning. Not a man among us, I 
make sure, but knew full well the meaning of 
those signals or what they called him to do. 
The bungalow was struck : life lay in the fog 
without, in the death-fog we had twice 

" She's burning— she's burning, by !" 

cried Seth Baker, running wildly for the 
door ; and to his voice was added that of 
Duncan Gray, who roared :— 

" My lead, my lead — stand back, for your 
lives ! " 

He threw a muffler round his neck and 
ran out from the stricken bungalow. The 
whole westward wing of the house was now 
alight. Great clouds of crimson flame wrestled 
with the looming fog above us ; they illu- 
mined all the garden about as with the light 
of ten thousand fiery lamps. Suffocating 
smoke, burning breezes, floating sparks, leap- 
ing tongues of flame drove us on. Cries you 
heard, one naming the heights for a haven, 
another clamouring for the beach, one 
answering with an oath, another, it may be, 
with a prayer ; but no man keeping his wits 
or shaping a true course. What would have 
happened but for the holding fog and the 
sulphurous air we breathed, 1 make no pre- 
tence to say ; but Nature stopped us at last, 
and, panting and exhausted, we came to a 
halt in the woods, and asked each other in the 
name of reason what we should do next. 

"The sea!" cries Peter Bligh, forgetting 
his courage (a rare thing for him to do) ; 
"show me the sea, or I'm a dead man ! " 

To whom Seth Barker answers : — 

" If there's breath, it's on the hills ; we'll 
surely die here ! " 

And little Dolly, he said : — 

" I cannot run another step, sir ; I'm beat 
—dead beat ! " 

For my part I had no word for them ; it 
remained for Dr. Gray to lead again. 

" I will show you the road," cried he, " if 
you will take it." 

Vol xxiii.-4l 

"And why not?" I asked him. "Why 
not, doctor?" 

" Because," he answered, very slowly, " it's 
the roacl to Edmond Czerny's house." 

by V^ 





We must have been a third of a mile from 
the shore when the doctor spoke, and three 
hundred yards, perhaps, from the pool in the 
glens. It is true that the storm seemed to 
clear the air ; but not as we had expected, 
nor as fair argument led us to hope. Wind 
there was, hot and burning on the face ; but 
it brought no cool breath in its path, and 
did but roll up the fog in banks of grey and 
dirty cloud. While at one minute you would 
see the wood, green and grassy, as in the 
evening light, at another you could scarce 
distinguish your neighbour or mark his steps. 
To me, it appeared that the island dealt out 
life and death on either hand ; first making a 
man leap with joy because he could breathe 
again ; then sending him gasping to the earth 
with all his senses reeling and his brain on 
fire. Any shelter, I said, would be paradise 
to men in the bond of that death-grip. Sleep 
itself, the island's sleep, could have been no 
worse than the agony we suffered. 

" Doctor," I cried, as I ran panting up to 
him, " Edmond Czerny's house or another — 
show us the way, here and now ! We can- 
not fare worse ; you know that. Lead on 
and we follow, wherever it is." 

The others said, "Aye, aye, lead on and 
we follow." Desperation was their lot 
now ; the madman's haste, the driven man's 
hope. There, in that fearful hollow, lives 
were ebbing away like the sea on a shallow 
beach. They fought for air, for breath, for 
light, for life. I can see Peter Bligh to this 
day as he staggers to his feet and cries, 
wildly : — 

"The mouth of a volcano would be a 
Sunday parlour to this ! Lead on, doctor, I 
am dying here ! " 

So he spoke ; and, the others lurching up 
again, we began to race through the wood 
to a place where the fog lay lighter and the 
mists had left. Wonderful sights met our 
eyes — aye, more wonderful than any words 
of mine could picture for you. In the 
air above flocks of birds wheeled dizzily 
as though the very sky were on fire. Round 
and round, round and round, they darkened 
the heaven like some great wheel revolving ; 
while, ever and anon, a beautiful creature 
would close its wings and swoop to death 
upon the dewj grass. Other animals, terri- 




tied cattle, wild dogs, creatures from the 
heights and creatures from the valleys, all 
huddled together in their fear, raised doleful 
cries which no ear could shut out. The 
trees themselves were burnt and blackened 
hy the storm, the glens as dark as night, the 
heaven above one canopy of fiery cloud and 
stagnant vapour. 

Now, I knew no more than the dead what 
Duncan Gray meant when he said that he 
would lead us to Czer ny's 
house, A boat I felt sure 
he did not possess, or he 
would have spoken of it; 
nor did he mean that we 
should swim, for no man 
could have lived in the 
surf about the reefs, His 
steps, moreover, were 
not carrying him toward 
the beach, but to that 
vrle pool in the ravine 
wherein a man had died 
on the night we came to 
Ken's Island, This pool 
I saw again as we ran on 
toward the headland ; 
and so still and quiet it 
seemed, such a pretty 
lake among the hills, 
that no man would have 
guessed the terror below 
its waters or named the 
secret of it. Neverthe- 
less, it recalled to me 
our first night's work, 
and how little we could 
hope from any man in 
Czerny's house ; and this 
I had in my mind when 
the doctor halted at last 
before the mouth of an 
open pit at the very foot 
of the giant headland. 
He was blown with run- 
ning, and the sweat 
dropped from his fore- 
head like water. The 
place itself was the most 
awesome I have ever 
entered- On either 
hand, so close to us that 
the arms outstretched could have touched 
them, were two mighty walls, which towered 
up as though to the very sky beyond the 
vapour A black pit lay before us ; the fog and 
the burning wind in the woods we had left. 
Silence was here — the awful silence of night 
and solitude. No eye could fathom the 

depths or search the heights. What lay 
beyond, I might not say* The doctor had 
led us to this wilderness, and he must 

" See here," he cried, mopping the sweat 
from his face and rolling up his shirt-sleeves^ 
like a man who has good work to do, "the 
road's down yonder, and we need a light to 
strike it Give me your hand, one of you, 
while I fetch up the lantern. A Dutchman 



didn't write of Ken's Island for nothing, 
guess he knew we were comi